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A SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


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BY MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTH WORTH,-^^ 

^ Author of “ The Hidden Hand," ^^Unknownf etc. 





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D 


The Skeleton in the Closet. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE CONSPIRACY, 

Oh, think what anxious moments pass between 
The birth of plots and their last fatal periods ; 

It is a dreadful interval of time, 

Filled up with horror, redolent of death ! 

Addison. 

But let the bold conspirator beware ! 

Heaven made honor its peculiar care. 

Dryden. 

“ Brandon Coyle ! Are you mad ?” 

She had stolen up behind him noiselessly. She had 
snatched the loaded pistol from his desperate hand and 
hurled it through the open window into the bay below. 
And not one instant too soon to save him from the 
crime of self-destruction. 

He whirled round upon her, and they stood facing 
each other with eyes flaming defiance. , ^ 




8 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


How like, yet unlike, were those fierce, beautiful 
creatures — twin sister and brother ! 

She with her slender, well-rounded, lissom form, sup- 
ple as a serpent’s ; with her small, fine features and 
clear, deadly-pale yellow face, darkened by great, deep, 
hollow black eyes ; the whole over-shadowed by heavy, 
clustering auburn curls— a subtle, wistful, most seduc- 
tive face. 

He, somewhat taller, fuller and more supple, like an- 
other human snake, of a little larger growth, with a 
paler complexion, darker eyes and darker hair. 

They were the orphan niece and nephew of Christo- 
pher Coyle, Esquire, an old bachelor, living on his 
ancient patrimonial estate of Caveland in the North of 
England. 

Now they stood glaring at each other a full minute 
in silent menace. Then both spoke at once. 

“ Aspirita !” 

“ Brandon !” 

' “ How dared you stop me ?” 

“ How dared, you raise your hand against your life ?” 

“ I dare do what I please,” he answered, sulkily. 

“ So do I — except — except to rush from life to death 
— from the known to the unknown !” she retorted, 
solemnly. 

“ The known is misery ; the unknown may be — 
peace !" 

“ And it may he— perdition." 

“There can be no more perfect perdition than I suf- 
fer now ! Why did you stop me ?” he cried, with a 
groan of anguish. 

“ Because I would not have you destroy yourself for 
the sake of a peevish girl. Come, Brandon. Rouse 
yourself ! Do he a man !” she exclaimed, with more 
energy than grammar. 


THE COKSPIRACY. 


9 


“ I cannot live without Arielle !”he wailed. 

“ Ba-a-a ! What a mooncalf you are, to be crying 
after a girl ! If you cannot live without her, must you 
therefore die ? If you cannot live without her, then, in 
the demon’s name, why don’t you live with her !” scorn- 
fully demanded the girl. 

“ Live with her ? Do not mock me. You know she 
is. to be married to Valdimir Desparde to-morrow,” 
gloomily replied the young man. 

“ She is to be married to-morrow j but this is to-day j 
and ‘there ’s many a slip-’twixt the cup and' — but 
proverbs a;*e vulgar, and you know what I mean.” 

“ By my soul, I do not !” 

“You must stop the marriage, Brandon !” 

“ ‘ Stop the marriage ?’ How am I to do that ?” 

“ Hush, Brandon ! Come and sit down here on the 
sofa by me, and I will tell you what to do to break off 
this marriage, near as it is.” 

“ ‘ Drowning men catch at straws.' Drowning hopes 
snatch at even lighter matter — words,” said Brandon, 
with a sneer, as he seated himself beside Aspirita. 

“ Now attend to me, Brandon. Before he became your 
successful rival in the favor of Lady Arielle Montjoie, 
Valdimir Desparde was your most intimate friend, was 
he not ?” inquired Aspirita. 

“ Of course he was. Perdition catch him !” exclaimed 
Brandon, grinding his teeth. 

“ You were in his entire confidence ?” 


“ Yes.” 


“ You have often heard him regret, deplore the un- 
fathomable mystery that hangs over his own and his 
sister’s childhood ?” 

“ Oh, to be sure. Haven’t I told you often enough ?” 

“ And he rather resents his guardian. Lord Beaude- 
vere’s, reticence on this subject ?” 



10 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“Yes, yes ; but, now, what in the demon has all this 
to do with the question of this detestable marriage ?“ 
exclaimed Brandon. 

“ You will know as I go on. Tell me, first, exactly 
how much Valdimir Desparde really does know of his 
early history ? He has X.o\6.yoUy I suppose ?” 

“ Yes ; but it is very little. He knows only so much 
as he remembers. He has heard nothing. Lord Beau- 
devere, the only person in possession of the facts, firmly 
refuses to speak one word on the subject.” 

“ Lord Beaudevere’s reserve is very merciful to Val- 
dimir Desparde and his sister.” 

“ What do you mean, Aspirita ?” 

“I will explain presently. But tell me all Valdimir 
Desparde has io\6. you of his early life, Brandon.” 

“ Aspirita ! Do you know anything V' 

“ I cannot tell you for a certainty until you have 
prepared the way by giving me all the information in 
your power. Go on.” 

“ Let me think. They are so sparse. Oh ! He 
remembers living with his mother and his little sister, 
in very poor lodgings, in the narrow street of a great 
city, whose name he has forgotten, even if he ever 
learned it — ” 

“ Was it in this country ?” 

“ No, for he crossed water to come here.” 

“ In France, then ?” 

“ No, for they were English-speaking people who 
inhabited the city, and they had black servants. He 
thinks it must have been New York or New Orleans, 
or some other American city.” 

“ New Orleans, probably, if they had many blacks. 
But go on.” 

“ The name of the city, and even of the country, is 
lost to him, and in a certain gloomy cloud of horror 


THE CONSPIRACY. 


11 


and affliction that suddenly swept over his little house- 
hold at that time.” 

“‘A cloud of horror!’ Ah! what was that ?” de- 
manded Aspirita, catching her breath. 

“ I do not know, for he does not know. It was some- 
thing concerning his father, the elder Valdimir Des- 
parde, whom, however, he does not remember ever to 
have seen. But his mother never held up her head 
again. She used to cry over him and his sister, and 
pray to the Lord to take them out of this world, and 
save them from the evil to come. At length the mother 
took to her bed, from which she never rose again. He 
remembers how white and thin her face used to look 
between its long, black curls. Neighbors were kind to 
her, and brought some relief. One day a minister 
came and sat by the bed and wrote a letter for her, 
which was sent away. After that she grew weaker, 
and one or another neighboring woman was always 
with her. Another day a gentleman arrived, a stran- 
ger who afterwards proved to be Lord Beaudevere.” 

” Well, Brandon, why don’t you go on ?” eagerly 
demanded the attentive girl, seeing that her brother 
paused, 

“ I am trying to remember what Desparde told me 
of this stranger. Oh ! he did not know who he was 
until long afterwards. Lord Beaudevere had this 
mother and her children immediately removed to a 
more comfortable house, and provided them with every- 
thing they could want. Desparde remembers his 
delight at the change from^he tenement-house, in the 
squalid alley, to the mansion in the broad, shady avenue. 
He remembers distinctly his mother’s pieaceful death, 
while Lord Beaudevere stood, with Vivienne in his arms 
and Valdimir by his side, promising the dying woman 
to be a father to them while he should live. Then fol- 


12 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


lowed the funeral and the black dresses. Then a long, 
long voyage in a sailing-ship, with storms and perils, 
sea-sickness and suffering, all vaguely remembered by 
Valdimir.” 

“ Did his sister — did Vivienne recollect nothing of 
this?” 

“ Nothing, Her earliest memories date frcm their 
life at Cloudland, whither their guardian took them 
immediately on their arrival in England.” 

“ And we know all the rest from hearsay — how the 
bachelor, Lord Beaudevere, represented these children 
to his neighbors as his little cousins and wards ; how 
he sent Valdimir to Eton and afterwards to Oxford, 
where the young man distinguished himself as much 
by devotion to study as by skill in athletic sports ; how 
the guardian sent him on his continental tour, and at 
his return celebrated his majority at Cloudland, present- 
ing him to the tenantry as the heir ; how the baron 
procured the most accomplished governess and masters 
for Vivienne, and took her to London and had her pre- 
sented to the queen. All this we know of these two 
individuals, whose earliest days were passed in a squalid 
tenement-house in a foreign city,” said Aspirita, scorn- 
fully. 

” Well, the fellow is the heir-presumptive of the title 
and estates of Lord Beaudevere, set fire to him ! If it 
were not so, he might never have dared to aspire to the 
hand of the Lady Arielle Montjoie. Or if he had, his 
aspirations would have been treated with contempt.” 

“ Then if he is the heir of the Barony of Beaudevere 
he must be so through his mother, for he cannot be so 
through his father, since the name of Desparde is not 
to be found in the Beaudevere genealogy,” said Aspirita, 
sententiously. 

” It is probably through his mother, whoever she 


THE CONSPIRACY. 


13 


was, since Beaudevere_ is one of those baronies that, 
failing male heirs, descend to the female. But I know 
nothing about it.” replied Brandon, testily. 

” Do you know that he really ts the heir?” 

‘‘ Yes, because it is so set down in the Peerage. Under 
the tabular list of noblemen, with their titles, family 
names, seats, and heirs, you will find this entry ; 
‘ Beaudevere — Baron ; Family name. Beau ; Seat, 

Cloudland, in shire ; Heir-Presumptive, Valdimir 

Desparde, Esq.’ ” 

‘‘Ah ! Just now you alluded to this young man’s 
father as Valdimir Desparde the elder. So that the 
son bears the exact name of his father ?” 

‘‘ Yes, the exact name of his father.” 

‘‘ He knows that, does he ?” 

‘‘ Yes, he knows that ; but that is absolutely all that 
he does know of his father.” 

‘‘Then we will try to enlighten him!” exclaimed 
Aspirita, with a blaze of malignity from her big black 
eyes. 

“ You DO know something, then ?” cried Brandon, 
starting. 

” Yes, T do. I know that Lord Beaudevere is merci- 
ful in leaving Valdimir Desparde in his ignorance, and 
that he would have been much more merciful to have 
left him in obscurity,” said Aspirita, solemnly. 

“ What do you mean ? What discovery have you 
made ?” exclaimed Brandon, in great excitement. 

“One that I intend you to reveal to Valdimir Des- 
parde. And when you shall have done so, should he 
be the man of honor we believe him, he will release 
Lady Arielle from her engagement to him, and he will 
fly to the uttermost parts of the earth rather than wed 
with her.” 

“ What — what is this discovery ? Explain yourself !” 


u 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


exclaimed Brandon Coyle, starting up and -standing 
before her, 

Aspirita put her hand in her pocket and drew forth a 
folded newspaper, yellow and faded with age, and so 
worn, that it threatened to fall to pieces on being opened. 

“What is that?” demanded Brandon, reaching forth 
his hand, 

“ Don’t touch it yet. It is the New Orleans Courier 
of sixteen years ago. Wait until I tell you where I 
found it. Uncle sent me up with his keys to open his 
secretary and fetch him some documents which he 
described to me. That was this morning, while the 
bailiff was here. Well, I went up to his secretary in 
the library, and unlocked the upper drawer, but had 
hard work to pull it out. When I did so, by main 
strength, at last, I pulled it too far, and it fell with a 
cra.sh. The jar, or something, touched or started the 
spring of a secret space at the back of the drawer that 
flew open and let this paper tumble out. There was 
nothing else in the hiding-place but this paper. Oh ! 
you will call it fate — its falling into my possession in 
this way !” 

“ Let me see it !” eagerly demanded Brandon. 

“ Wait ! Let me tell you first, I, too, had a curiosity 
to examine the old thing and see why it was so care- 
fully hidden away. But uncle was in a hurry, as I 
knew, and the bailiff was waiting in the justice room 
down stairs, and so I shoved the paper into my pocket, 
replaced the panel of the secret place, and then got the 
document uncle wanted, locked the drawer, and went 
down. to him with it. But as soon as I found myself 
alone I examined this paper, and — you may judge of 
my feelings when this met my view !” said the girl, 
now handing the open paper to her brother, and point- 
ing to the head of the first column on the first page. 


THE CONSPIRACY. 


15 


The young man eagerly seized the paper, while she 
watched its effect upon him. 

He looked at the lines she had indicated until his 
gaze dilated into a stare, his cheeks grew pale, and his 
chin fell — aghast with horror ! 

“ Great Heaven ! Oh, this is terrible ! terrible ! ter- 
rible !” he exclaimed, when at last he could speak for 
emotion. 

“ If it be so terrible in your eyes, what must it be in 
his ?” whispered Aspirita. 

“ What, indeed ! Oh, this is worse than the worst 
that could be imagined !” he muttered. 

“ He — Valdimir Desparde — ought not to be permitted 
to marry Lady Arielle Montjoie,” whispered Aspirita. 

Ought not 1 He must not and shall not ! Oh ! that- 
Lord Beaudevere could have known this and kept it 
concealed !” bitterly exclaimed Brandon. 

“ He did it in mercy to Valdimir and Vivienne !” 

“But what sort of mercy, or even justice, has he 
shown in his dealings with Lord and Lady Altofaire 
and Lady Arielle Montjoie ?” 

“ Perhaps he thought this secret would never come 
out to injure them.” 

“ And yet an old paper fortunately comes to light 
just in time to save the young lady from ruin and her 
family from dishonor. I will take this paper to the 
Earl of Altofaire this morning, and lay the case before 
him !” 

“ No, no ! Do not so !” 

“ Why not ?” 

“ Because, if you do, the earl will stop the marriage, 
for Lady Arielle’s sake, and then all Lady Arielle’s 
sympathies will be with her betrothed lover, and she 
will remain faithful to him, and perhaps even elope with 
him !” 


16 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ That is true ! What, then, would you advise me to 
do with this paper ?” 

“ Take it to Valdimir Desparde ! Remind him of 
his oft expressed desire to penetrate the mystery of his 
own early life, and of his constant wonder at his guard- 
ian’s reserve on the subject. Then tell him that you 
have accidentally discovered the secret — that you feel 
in honor bound to reveal it to him. Then show him 
the paper.” 

‘‘ He will blow his brains out !” exclaimed Brandon. 

‘‘Indeed he will not ! I know Valdimir Desparde. 

‘ He will suffer and be strong !’ He will release Lady 
Arielle from her engagement, though it should break 
her heart and even his own ! But he will not take his 
own life, which he considers he holds in trust for his 
Creator, nor will he reveal the terrible secret, which he 
will keep for the sake of his young sister, Vivienne. 
He will go away and ‘ make no sign.’ Arielle will con- 
sider herself a bride elect rejected at the altar, and her 
wounded pride will help her to overcome her slighted 
love. You may catch her heart ‘ at the rebound’ then !” 
whispered Aspirita. 

“ Oh, Asp ! Asp ! what a serpent you are ! ’ exclaimed 
Brandon Coyle, half in admiration, half in dread. 

‘‘ Stay,” she murmured. ‘‘ I hope — I hope that Val- 
dimir does not suspect that you ever aspired to the 
hand of Arielle ?” 

” No. He has not that matter of triumph over me. 
It was while he was on his ‘ grand tour’ that I — made a 
fool of myself, and I have not seen her since her rejec- 
tion of my suit.” 

“ And she has never told her betrothed of your offer, 
you presume ?” 

“ Who ? Arielle ? Arielle boast of her conquest of 
one man to another man ? I have heard of women who 


THE CONSPIRACY. 


17 


do such things, but Arielle — never ! My life on her 
honor and delicacy.” 

“ So Valdimir has no reason to suppose that anything 
has occurred to break the perfect sympathy and har- 
mony of your old friendship ?” 

” No, none. He has been so occupied with his love 
affairs — confound him ! — that he has had no time to 
miss my companionship.” 

“ So much the better. Then your way is clear. Go 
to him as his old friend, on the strength of your old 
mutual affection, and tell him, with as much seeming 
hesitation and delicate sympathy as you can assume, 
of the discovery you have just made, and of the uncom- 
promising sense of duty that constrains you to com- 
municate it to him. The revelation will not dethrone 
his reason, and may not break his heart ; but it will 
compel him, as a man of honor, to break his engagement 
with Arielle. He will fly the country ; I k7iow \ie will. 
But he will come to bid me good-by first. I know that 
too. And then if I do not commence a treatment of 
con.solation and cure, my name is not Aspirita Coyle !” 

“ Oh, Asp ! Asp ! So that is your game, is it t" 

“ That is my ‘ game ’ as you call it. Brand. You 
’thought I had your happiness only in view ? Pooh, 
pooh, brother ! we are egotists all. You love the bride 
elect. I like the bridegroom expectant. We work 
together for our mutual interests. Behold all !” 

“ But, Aspirita, would you marry a man who did not 
think himself good enough for Lady Arielle Montjoie ? 
A man in his exceptional circumstances ?” inquired 
Brandon Coyle, in surprise. 

“ Yes, I would ! I am not Lady Arielle Montjoie. I 
am Aspirita Coyle, the orphan, dependent on my bache- 
lor uncle, whose estates will all go to you. Besides, I 
love him !” added the bold beauty, without hesitation. 


18 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Humph ! A man with such a reproach attached to 
his name ! You must love him for himself alone y then ?” 

“ No ! for myself alone / I might be capable of killing 
him to prevent another woman having him !” 

“ Bravo, Asp ! But oh ! the fates forbid that ever 
your sting should strike me ! And, meanwhile, as 
the parties most concerned, they should be informed 
of their changed prospects,” added Brandon Coyle, with 
a smile ; and, rising, with a bow he left his sister, and, 
a few minutes later, departed on his detestable errand. 

Aspirita Coyle looked after him, a great light of 
triumph dilating her dark eyes, as she muttered to her- 
self : 

Nqw, Valdimir Desparde, you shall be mine! It 
may take trouble and time, but I can work and — wait !" 


CHAPTER II. 

THE BRIDEGROOM ELECT. 

Love, fame, and glory, with alternate sway. 

Thrill his warm heart, and with electric ray 
Illume his eye : yet still a shade of care. 

Like a light cloud that floats on summer air. 

Will shed, at times, a transitory gloom. 

But shadow not one grace of manly bloom. 

^ Ware. 

We must precede Brandon Coyle to Cloudland on the 
Mist. 

This inlet, or bay, was one of the most beautiful and 
picturesque to be found on the west coast of England. 


THE BRIDEGROOM ELECT. 


19 


Along the margin of this bay were the three estates 
with which our story is concerned. 

High among heights at the upper end arose the white 
towers of Montjoie — an ancient feudal castle dating 
back to the time of the Conquest, when it was erected 
by Guion Montjoie, a follower of the Norman William, 
and an ancestor of the present Guyon Montjoie, eighth 
Earl of Altofaire. 

Half way down the east shore stood Cloudland, the 
ancient seat of the Baron Beaudevere. 

Immediately opposite this place, across the bay, on 
the western shore, and scarcely distinguishable from 
the gray rocks around them, bristled the gray turrets 
of Caveland, the old hall of Christopher Coyle, Esquire, 
in which our story opened. 

On the sea at the mouth of the bay stood the little 
fishing hamlet of Miston. 

It is at Cloudland, however, that our present business 
lies. 

On the same morning that witnessed the conference 
between the brother and sister — Brandon and Aspirita 
Coyle — another youthful pair were engaged in conver- 
sation in a sitting-room at Cloudland. 

They also were a brother and sister — Valdimir and 
Vivienne Desparde — the orphan wards of the Baron of 
Beaudevere. 

Valdimir Desparde was a youth of twenty-one years, 
of medium height, elegant form, and graceful bearing, 
with regular, aquiline features, large, deeply-set dark 
eyes, brown complexion, and intensely black hair and 
mustache. He wore a plain morning suit of very light 
gray tweed cloth. 

Vivienne was a small and brilliant brunette beauty, 
seventeen years of age, very full of fun and frolic, and 
with the air of the schoolroom still hanging about her, 


20 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


although she had had one short season in London. 
She wore a white India muslin morning dress, with 
high neck and long sleeves. 

“ What is the matter with you, Val ? I have spoken 
to you several times, and you have answered me all 
astray,” she petulantly exclaimed. 

“ Have I ?” he inquired, negligently. 

“ Yes, you have. Why, just now when I asked you if 
you had ev^er seen the water look so like a mirror as it 
does to day, reflecting every object on its clear surface, 
you answered that you thought it happened about six 
months before our mother passed away, and so it must 
have been in the winter.” 

” Did I ?” 

“ Yes, you did. Such absence of mind is not excu.s- 
able even in a bridegroom expectant. Do rouse your- 
self now, because I want to talk of something of more 
importance than the a.spect of the lake,” said the girl, 
with an impatient little jerk. 

The young man drew himself up, and became atten- 
tive as he inquired : 

‘‘ What do you wish to discuss, Vivi V' 

“ I wish to know what you and guardian were talk- 
ing about so long in the study last night ?” 

“ Business.” 

” Bosh !” 

“ That is not a pretty word for any young lady, espe- 
cially for a Miss Desparde. What would your govern- 
ess .say ?” inquired the young man, with real or 
assumed gravity. 

“ I don’t care. I am emancipated from the rule of a 
governess, and I do not intend to take a tutor in her 
place, especially I would have you know, sir.” 

“ Do not let us quarrel, Vivi. We are to part to- 
morrow.” 


THE BRIDEGROOM ELECT. 


21 


“Well, then, tell me what was the ‘business’ that 
kept you and guardian closeted so long — that is, if it 
was no secret ?” 

“ It is no secret from you. It concerned property. 
You know Lord Beaudevere is a very rich man outside 
of his inherited and entailed estates appertaining to the 
Barony of Beaudevere.” 

“Yes, I know; his mother’s bachelor brother, an 
enormously wealthy East Indian, left it to him.” 

“ Well, this vast property he has divided into two 
equal parts — one of which he has deeded to me on my 
marriage, and the other he reserves for you. He tells 
me it is our.s of right, though I do not see how that 
should be.” 

“ Oh, was that all you were talking about so long ?” 
exclaimed Vivienne, with that supreme indifference to 
money which is the privilege of the very young who 
have never known its want. “ I thought perhaps — I 
hoped — ” 

“ What did you hope, Vivi ?” 

“ That now, at last, when you are so near being mar- 
ried, he might have told you something about — ” 

“ About what, Vivi ?” 

“ Our father and mother,” replied the girl. 

“ So did I ; but he never mentioned the subject,” 
responded the youth in a gloomy tone. 

“ Why did you not mention it, then ? Why did you 
not press the subject upon him now, at this serious 
crisis of your life .? It seems to me you should not enter 
into the holy bonds of matrimony in such utter ignor- 
ance of your own family — especially with the daughter 
of an earl, who will one day be a countess in her own 
right !” exclaimed Vivienne, with an assumption of 
wisdom beyond her age. 

“ I have repeatedly, but vainly urged our guardian to 


22 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


tell me something of oiir parents, but he has persist- 
ently refused. Only on the day before I proposed for 
Lady Arielle, I implored Lord Beaudevere to put me in 
possession of my family history ; but he rejected ray 
petition with severity, telling me to beware of the curse 
of a granted prayer. Then I adjured him to satisfy me 
on one point — whether there was any circumstance in 
this hidden mystery that should prevent me in honor 
from seeking the hand of Lady Arielle Montjoie. He 
assured me that there was nothing in my life, nor the 
life of my parents, that should prevent me from seek- 
ing the hand of any lady in the realm. You reproached 
me just now with absence of mind — with incoherent 
replies. Vivi, I was thinking of the past. I was send- 
ing my thoughts down into the depths of memory 
to seek and find, if possible, some clew to the mystery 
in our lives. I know the horror must have come about 
six months before our mother passed away, for the 
snow was deep on the ground, and the weather was 
very severe, and we were suffering with cold when it 
came upon us.” 

“ How old were you then ?” 

“ Five years.” 

“ So it must have been sixteen years last winter since 
the calamity came, and sixteen years this summer since 
our mother went.” 

“ Yes, about that.” 

“ You were five years old, and can remember no more 
than you have told me ?” 

“ No more than this : Our poverty and suffering in 
the poor lodgings. Some horrible event that laid 
my mother low. Her long illness. The arrival of 
Lord Beaudevere. Our removal into handsome apart- 
ments, and our being surrounded with elegance and 
luxury. Then our mother’s departure for her eternal 


THE BRIDEGROOM ELECT. 


23 


home. Our long sea-voyage with Lord Beaudevere, 
and — Cloudland ! That is all. I have told you the 
particulars a thousand times.” 

” Valdimir, was there never any likeness of our 
father or mother ?” 

” None that I ever knew of.” 

” Nor any papers, letters, documents, nor anything 
else that might throw some light on the past history ?” 

” None whatever, so far as I know. Yet stay ! Now 
you speak of letters and papers, I recollect a circum- 
stance that I never considered of much importance 
After our mother’s funeral was over, Lord Beaudevere 
burned up a vast quantity of letters. 'I recollect the 
circumstance so well, because I was so childishly 
pleased with the frequent flaming up of the fire, as the 
papers would be lighted and cast into the em'pty grate.” 

“ When you begged Lord Beaudevere to tell you 
something about the lives of our father and mother, 
what could he have meant by telling you to beware of the 
curse of a granted prayer ?” 

“ I do not know, any more than that he must have 
meant to warn me against petitioning him any further 
on the subject, lest he should be goaded by my impor- 
tunity to tell me something that, to know, would 
embitter all my future life.” 

“ Then I would have dared that ! I would have goaded 
him until I should have forced him to give up his 
secret,” said the girl, impetuously. 

” No, you would not, Vivi. He is our benefactor. 
You could not have treated him with rudeness and 
ingratitude. Besides, I am quite sure that no ‘ goading,’ 
no amount of importunity, could have forced from him 
his secret.” 

“ Then we shall never know it.” 

“ Never ! And that is the one cloud over the clear- 


24 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


ness of our horizon. But there must be clouds in every 
sky, I suppose," said the young man, with “ half a sigh 
and half a smile," as he took up a field-glass, listlessly 
put it to his eyes, and surveyed the water. 

“ There is a boat putting off from Caveland with a 
party in it. It is steering straight across. There is 
only Brandon Coyle besides the oarsman. Dear old 
fellow, I shall be so glad to see him ! It has been so 
long since we have met ! I wanted him for best man, 
but Arielle objected ; I cannot imagine why, or why 
she omitted to ask Aspirita to be one of the bride-maids. 
Can you, Vivienne ?" 

“ No, indeed ! I should have thought that Brandon 
and Aspirita Coyle would have been the first among 
your mutual friends to be invited as wedding attend- 
ants. So inseparable as you four used to be, too !” 
exclaimed Vivienne. 

“There can be no pique /” suggested Valdimir. 

“ Oh, no ! Arielle speaks in the most friendly way of 
both ; but when I ventured to ask her why she would 
not have them to wait on her, she said because she did 
not want them, and could give no reason why she did 
not want them." 

“ It is very strange ; and I am really afraid that 
Brandon, poor old boy, will take it very unkind of me 
to pass over him and invite young Adrian Fleming to 
be my best* man." 

“ And all to please Arielle ! I do not think it is 
right in her to decide who shall be your groomsman. 
You do not interfere with her choice of bride-maids, 
although you 7night with some show of reason, for most 
certainly Antonia Deloraine and Netty Starr, the rec- 
tor’s niece and step-daughter, are not of her rank.” 

“ They are Arielle’s most intimate friends, how- 
ever.” 


THE BRIDEGROOM ELECT. 


25 


“ Oh, yes. And, therefore, not only must those girls’ 
names be paraded all over the country as the bride- 
maids of the Lady Arielle Montjoie, but to please them, 
the oldest college-friend you have in the world must be 
slighted, so that the name of the rector’s pupil, Adrian 
Fleming, may be gazetted as the bridegroom’s best 
man 1” said Vivienne, sharply. 

“ My sister, since Arielle has chosen you to be her 
own first attendant, I do not think we have a right to 
complain,” observed Valdimir, soothingly, 

‘‘/do not complain, but I /^^say that you had a right 
to select your own man and that man should have been 
your dear chum, Brandon Coyle, while Aspirita Coyle 
should have been second bride-maid after me, and then 
if Arielle must have the rectory girls, they might be 
third and fourth in the procession.” 

“ Vivi, I do not care in the least who our attendants 
are, except in the case of Brandon — dear old fellow. I 
would not have him think that I would willingly slight 
him. And — There he is now, just leaving his boat ! 
He is coming here !” exclaimed the young man, with 
eager gayety, as he threw up a sash of the window and 
looked out. 

“ Shut that down ! The air from the water is too 
keen even at this season, and I have a thin dress on, 
remember !” exclaimed Vivian, shivering. 

“ However little we may know of our father’s ances- 
try, Vivi, one thing is certain — we have Southern blood 
in our veins. We cannot stand a chill,” laughed the 
young man, as he pulled down the sash and turned from 
the window. 

He had scarcely done this when the door was opened 
by a footman in the blue and white livery of the Beau- 
deveres, who announced — 

“ Mr. Brandon Coyle,” and retired. 


26 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Brandon Coyle entered the room. 

Valdimir Desparde met him with outstretched hand 
and affectionate smile, exclaiming : 

“ Ah ! here you are at last, Brand ! Good, old man ! 
How glorious it is to see you at the house again I” 

“T'hank you,” returned Coyle, very gravely. Then 
turning to the young lady, he said : 

“ Good morning, Miss Desparde ; fine day on the 
water.” 

“ Good morning. Yes, very. Will you sit near the 
window ? How is Aspirita ? You might have brought 
her across with you,” rattled Vivienne, in reply. 

“ Aspirita ? Well, she is expecting the rectory ladies 
and young Fleming to lunch with her this morning ; 
and, by the way, I shall have to return in time to join 
them,” said Coyle, dropping into the chair that Vivi- 
enne had pointed out to him 

‘‘ Look here. Brand ; talking of the rectory girls, is 
young Fleming devoting himself to Netty Starr or to 
Miss Deloraine ?” 

” To Netty Starr,” replied Coyle, promptly. 

” But Antonia Deloraine is trying to take him away 
from Netty,” put in Vivienne. 

“ Then she ’ll do it ; for Antonia is a beauty, and an 
heiress, and Netty is neither, though one of the sweet- 
est little girls that ever lived,” added Valdimir. 

At this moment the footman put his_head in at the 
door again, and said : 

” If you please, Miss, Professor Cavero is here.” 

‘‘My singing-master. What a nuisance. You will 
excuse me, Mr. Coyle ? I have a great mind to send 
him away,” said Vivienne, as she left the room. 

Brandon Coyle arose and shut the door after her, and 
then returned and took the seat next to Valdimir, 
inquiring in a low, mysterious tone : 


THE BRIDEGROOM ELECT. 


27 


“ Shall we be free from interruption for a half hour 
or so here, do you think ? I have something to say to 
you that must be said in private,” said Brandon Coyle, 
gravely. 

Valdimir Desparde looked at his visitor in some sur- 
prise, and then said : 

“ I hope and trust it is nothing so serious as your 
looks imply, Brandon. But come with me to my room. 
We shall be free from interruption there at least.” 

And the two young men arose and left the parlor, 
and crossed the hall to a spacious chamber, whose 
appointments proved at once that it belonged to a 
bachelor. 

“ Now take a seat, old fellow ; light a cigar, if you 
would like one ; make yourself eomfortable, and tell 
me what I can do for you ! Come ! out with the trouble ! 
Pour your sorrows in your faithful friend’s ear. Have 
you got into debt again ^ and do you owe more money 
than you like to ask your guardian for ? If so, you know 
your banker, old chap !” exclaimed Valdimir, with cor- 
dial good-humor, as he pushed forward one easy-chair 
for his visitor, and threw himself into another near by. 

“ Thanks ! I have been your debtor for such^ favors 
often enough, Desparde, but — ” 

“ Oh, nonsense, dear fellow ! Don’t mention it! That 
is to say — what is the figure now ?” heartily demanded 
Valdimir, hurrying to his cabinet-desk and taking out 
his check-book. 

“ But — I was about to say, this is not a question of 
money I Put up your book, Desparde! We have no 
use for it. At least I have not. And come and take 
your seat again. The matter upon which I have come 
to see you concerns yourself, not me,” said Coyle so 
solemnly that Desparde returned at once, dropped into 
his chair and looked anxiously at the speaker, saying : 


28 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ I hope you have no ill news ?” 

“ I dare not say otherwise,” replied Valdimir. 

“ For Heaven’s sake, speak out ! Nothing has hap- 
pened at — dX MontjoieV' exclaimed the young lover, in 
alarm. 

“ No, nothing is the matter there that I know of.” 

“Thank Heaven! I am relieved!” said Valdimir, 
fervently. 

“ I said, besides, that the subject concerned yourself” 
added Brandon, gravely. 

“ I see that you are determined to make me uneasy ! 
What is it that you mean ? Speak out ! Since you tell 
me that nothing has happened at Montjoie, and I know 
that all is well here, what have I to fear ? All my pres- 
ent life is bound up in those two places !” exclaimed 
Valdimir, earnestly. 

But your past life 7” insinuated Coyle in a whisper. 

“ Ah!” cried Desparde, in a half-suppressed voice. 

“ Valdimir, if knew a secret, or had made a dis- 
covery that concerned my honor, would you not feel 
bound by duty and by friendship to reveal it to me ?” 

“Yes! yes!” 

“ Rven though the revelation should give me the 
greatest pain ?” 

“ Oh, yes ! yes ! If your honor were involved ! But 
WHAT do you mean ?” demanded Desparde, rising to 
his feet in growing anxiety. 

“ I have made a discovery. I possess a secret in 
regard to your past history in which your honor is 
deeply involved ! Valdimir ! It will wring my heart 
to reveal it to you ! Must I do it ?” 

“ By all that is sacred, you must !” vehemently 
replied Desparde. 

“ Even though it should rend your heart with 
anguish ?” 


THE BRIDEGROOM ELECT. 


29 


‘ Even though it should ! — since it would be no fault 
of mine !” exclaimed Valdimir, desperately, 

“ Even though it should blast all your prospects in 
life ?” 

“ Even so” returned the young man, but in a fainter 
voice and with a paler cheek. 

“ Valdimir,” began Brandon, in a soft, compassionate 
tone — “ Valdimir, you have often spoken to me of the 
painful mystery in which the morning of your life 
seemed to be involved.” 

” Yes !” exclaimed the young man, eagerly, fixing 
great, dilated eyes upon the speaker. 

“ Valdimir, my friend ! an accident revealed that 
mystery to me this morning,” said Brandon Coyle. 

“ How ? What ? Speak ! Tell me all !” cried young 
Desparde, springing to his feet, pale and trembling 
with excitement. 

“ Oh, my dear Valdimir ! The sternest sense of duty 
drove me here to-day to communicate the secret. Now, 
now my heart fails ! Friendship, sympathy, compas- 
sion, all plead with me to bury the horror in oblivion,” 
groaned Coyle, covering his face with his hands, while 
his chest seemed to heave with emotion. 

“ Brandon, it is too late now ! You have said too 
much, or too little ! If you had not meant to tell me 
all, you should have told me nothing. Go on, I say !” 
fiercely exclaimed Desparde, shaking with the violence 
of his emotions. 

” Then your blood be on your own head !” muttered 
Coyle, still shading his eyes. 

“ Be it so ! Speak !” cried Desparde, white and shud- 
dering. 

“ This discovery concerned — jour father” whispered 
Brandon, 


30 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Coyle ! For Heaven’s sake tell me the worst at 
once ! By all that is holy, you shall tell me !” vocifer- 
ated Valdimir, in a wild and threatening manner. 

“ There, then ! Read for yourself ! This paper, 
published sixteen years ago, on the morning after the 
• — the — the tragedy, contains a full account of all its 
details,” exclaimed Brandon Coyle, with the air and 
manner of a man driven to desperation, as he hurriedly 
drew from his coat pocket a parcel which he unfolded 
and held out to his companion, 

Valdimir Desparde took it and turned it about with 
shaking hands, fearing to find — he knew not what. 

” The first column on the first page !” muttered 
Coyle, as he again vailed his eyes and averted his head. 

Valdimir Desparde turned to the indicated place, 
read the head-lines only, but was transfixed by them j he 
read no farther, but gazed at them, stared at them, until 
his eyes seemed starting from their sockets, then turned 
white as death, dropped the paper from his palsied 
hands, and fell to the floor — “as falls a tree.” 

The tree does not fall by one stroke of the woodman’s 
ax, but, cloven by many, drops by the last. 

So it happened to Valdimir Desparde. 

The words that clove the heart and felled the frame 
of the strong young man in the prime and pride of life, 
were the following — not seen as they are copied here, 
but printed in great capital letters, in head-lines, at the 
top of the first column in that old New Orleans 
journal : 

‘‘The execution of the quadroon, Valdimir Desparde, 
alias John Sims, for the murder of his master. The end 
of an extraordinary career. 

“ A fugitive slave at the early age of thirteen. 
Educated in Canada by sympathizing Abolitionists. Is 


THE BRIDEGROOM ELECT, 


31 


trained for the legal profession. Patronized by Cana- 
dian Abolitionists. 

“ Makes the acquaintance of a wealthy English 
family. By his great personal beauty and great plausi- 
bility he wins the affections of their daughter and 
heiress, with whom he elopes, after purloining the 
money, letters and jewelry of a visitor who was staying 
at their house. 

“ He brings his victim-bride down to Washington, 
where, by the aid of false tesimonials, he gets into 
society. 

“ His detection and discovery by an old neighbor of 
his master who had known him as a slave in Louisi- 
ana. His exposure and flight, leaving his wife and 
infant children in the city. 

“ The history of his last crime. The criminal’s last 
day on earth. Neither wife nor children with him. 

“ Reported death of the unhappy wife in Washington 
city, and the adoption of the two children — a boy and 
girl — by a wealthy English relative, who will take them 
to the old country.” 

There was much more ; but it is probable that the 
wretched young man read no further than these last 
words, that proved, or seemed to prove, that he, Valdi- 
mir Desparde, on his mother’s side the descendant of 
English nobles and Polish princes, was, on his father’s 
side, by a tremendous deception, the son of a slave and 
a murderer — one of a degraded race. 

It was this that struck him down to the dust. 


CHAPTER III. 


“the most unhappy man of men.” 

Here’s proof of all he feared to know ; 

The long past guilt, the present woe ! 

Concealment is no more ; they speak 
- All circumstance that may compel 
Full credence to the tale they tell ; 

And now his tortured heart and ear 
Have nothing more to feel or hear. 

Byron. 

Brandon Coyle arose and stood over his fallen rival, 
and looked down upon him, while his own dark face 
grew darker with the malignant passions that surged 
through his soul than even with the dark Southern 
blood that coursed through his veins. 

His eye fell upon the old paper that had done all the 
mischief. He stooped and picked it up from the carpet, 
where it had fallen, folded it and put it away carefully 
in his pocket. 

[32] 


“the most UNHAPPr MAN OF MEN.” 33 

Then, at length, some obscure remains of human 
sympathy in his evil and unhappy nature caused him 
to feel a little compassion, mixed with contempt, for 
the prostrate victim at his feet. 

Valdimir Desparde had fallen face downward. 

Brandon turned him over on his back, straightened 
out the bent limbs, then went to a table, took from the 
liqpor-stand a small bottle of brandy, came and knelt 
down by Valdimir’s side, drew the cork, raised his head 
and put the neck of the bottle between his lips, and let 
the liquor trickle drop by drop down his throat. 

The unconscious man swallowed mechanically and 
soon gave signs of returning sensibility. 

“Poor devil ! It would be more merciful to let him 
die !” muttered Brandon to himself, half in pity, half in 
scorn. “ Heaven and earth ! the son of a slave who 
was hung for murder ! Could there be a more degraded 
lineage 'i Yes, there might be ! And it is well for this 
poor wretch that the marriage of his parents — since they 
were to be married — took place in Canada ; for in the 
United States such an unhatural union would have been 
null and void, and Valdimir would not have been, in 
right of his mother, the heir of a barony. What an 
irony of fate ! The son of a Louisiana slave the heir of 
an English barony !” 

Here, with a deep sigh, Valdimir opened his eyes and 
looked about him. 

“ How are you, dear old fellow T' inquired Brandon, 
with mock cordiality, as he assisted the prostrate man 
to rise to his feet. 

“ What ? How is this ? What has happened mut- 
tered the wretched Desparde, as he tottered forward 
and sank into a chair. ~ 

“ Try to collect your thoughts, Valdimir ! Brace up, 
old boy !” heartily exclaimed Brandon. 


34 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ But — what ? — something- has occurred !” murmured 
Valdimir, passing his hand distractedly over his corru- 
gated forehead and distressed eyes. “ vSomething — 
something ! Oh, my God ! I remember ! I remember !” 
he wailed, in indescribable anguish, bowing his stricken 
head upon his hands, and shuddering as with an ague 
fit, 

“Come, come, old fellow, brace up ! Meet this mis- 
fortune like a man !’’ exclaimed Coyle. 

“ Oh, my mother ! What calamities your indiscretion 
has brought upon your children !’’ groaned Desparde. 

“ Dear fellow, don’t ! Don’t !’’ 

“ Oh, now I understand the agony of horror and des- 
pair that made her pray for the death of her two chil- 
dren ! That killed herself !’’ wailed Valdimir, 

“ Dear fellow, this was not your fault, nor the fault of 
your sister,’’ began Brandon, but he was sharply inter- 
rupted at the last word by a piercing cry from Desparde. 

“ My sister ! Oh, my sister ! My high-spirited, dainty, 
sensitive Vivienne ! How will she bear this ?’’ 

“ She need never know it ! Dear boy, she itiust never 
know it !’’ said Coyle, earnestly. 

A deep groan was Valdimir's only answer. 

“ Beaudevere, I and you are the only custodians of 
this secret. Beaudevere has never breathed it to mor- 
tal ears, / never will breathe it, and you never need to do 
so ! So nothing need be changed ! Nobody need be 
hurt !’’ urged Brandon Coyle, with hypocritical earnest- 
ness, for he knew the noble nature of the man to whom 
he spoke. He knew that for hun all was changed. 

“ It is enough that / know this infamy. If no other 
human being knew it but myself, or ever could know it 
but myself, still, all the world and all the future would 
be altered for me !’’ said Desparde, in a despairing 
voice, as he dropped his hand from his brow and re- 


“the M08T UNHAPPY MAN OP MEN.’’ 35 

vealed a face terrible in its suffering, yet sublime in its 
resolution. 

“ What on earth do you mean ?” exclaimed Coyle, in 
deceitful badinage. “ ‘ All the world and all the 
future altered ’ for you, indeed ! I don’t see how or why. 
You are still the heir-presumptive of the barony of 
Beaudevere and the estate of Cloudland ! You are still 
the betrothed husband of Lady Arielle— ” 

Here a cry of anguish, such as might have been 
wrung from a victim on the rack of the Inquisition, 
broke from the lips of Valdimir. 

“ Do NOT NAME HER ! Do not name my lost love, 
unless you would slay me ! Oh, my love ! Oh, my 
angel ! Oh, my lost, lost darling !” he wailed, dropping 
his head into his hands with a great sob, as his chest 
heaved with the heart’s fearful tempest. 

“This is madness, De.sparde I What do you mean by 
it ? You are still the heir of Beaudevere ! Still the 
betrothed of Arielle ! No power on earth can de- 
prive you of your inheritance, and, after to-morrow, no 
power on earth can deprive you of your beautiful, high- 
born wife ! Come, come, cheer up !’’ said Brandon, 
with fiendish duplicity. 

Again Valdimir dropped his hands from before his 
face, now agonized, but beautiful in its sorrow and 
glorious in its self-abnegation. 

“ What you mean, Brandon ? The heir of Beaude- 
vere, am I ? Yes, T am the heir in right of my mother; 
but-my mother married a slave, who became a murder- 
er, and was hung for his crime. His name was Des- 
parde. I am his son, and bear his name, though 1 am 
the heir of Beaudevere in right of my mother.” 

“That is undeniable,” assented Coyle. 

“ But — do — you — think that I would drag that old 
and noble barony, won on the gallant field of Hastings, 


36 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


down through the mire of a slave’s and a murderer’s 
name ?” 

Coyle did not answer, and Despare continued : 

“ No, never ! I shall leave England ; lose myself in 
some new country ; change my name. In a word, I 
must die to the world as Valdimir Desparde, and leave 
my sister to inherit the barony.” 

“ Will not that be — the same thing?” inquired Bran- 
don. 

” No, for she will marry and change the- sullied name 
of ’Desparde for some name worthy to be linked with 
the old barony of Beaudevere — at least much worthier 
than that of a slave and a murderer,” said Valdimir. 

“ Oh, nonsense, now, Desparde ! That is morbid ! 
That is mad ! ‘ Slave and murderer,' indeed ! If it 

comes to tliat^ what was the first Baron of Beaudevere 
but ‘ a slave and murderer ?’ At least, if history and 
tradition tell the truth, the founder of the family, Jean 
Beaue, was only a vassal and a private soldier in the 
Norman Conqueror’s army ! He was a favorite per- 
sonal attendant of Duke William, however — used to 
pull off his boots, washed his feet, and cut his corns — 
ay, and get a kick in the face if he cut too close, no 
doubt ; for your conquering heroes can’t bear the least 
scratch of pain, you know ! They leave those accesso- 
ries of conquest to their slaves and soldiers, while ///<!ry 
issue commands at a safe distance from the hacking and 
hewing! Well, this— as we would call him in 
these nnheroic days, rose from the ranks step by step, 
and won the favor of his master chiefly by the unscru- 
pulous slaughter of every Saxon man, womun or child 
that fell in his way, and got his crowning honors — not 
exactly ‘ on the gallant field of Hastings,’ but on the 
conquered soil of Cumberland — by assassinating in cold 
blood, the brave old Saxon earl, Seward Klod, of Klod- 


“the most unhappy man of men.” 37 

landt, (who had held out so long against the Conquer- 
or,) for which he was created Baron of Beaudevere, and 
endowed with the estate of Klodlandt, which time and 
manners have euphonized into Cloudland,” 

“Oh, what of it all?— what of it all ?” groaned Valdi- 
mir, with the weary impatience of a tortured beast. 

“Oh, nothing ! Only if any Beaudevere should call 
any Desparde ‘ a slave and a murderer,’ it would be like 
‘pot calling kettle black,’ that’-s all. The Barons of 
Beaudevere, like most of the Norman nobility, are the 
descendants of the ‘ slaves and murderers ’ that com- 
posed Duke William’s invading army.’’ 

“ Sophistry ! Sophistry, Brandon !’’ groaned Val- 
dimir. 

“ You will not leave England, as you said ?” 

“ I shall leav-^e England to-day,’’ replied Valdimir, in 
a tone hardened by despair. 

“ That is a very sudden resolution, Desparde.’’ 

“ Men in agony must think rapidly if they can think 
at all. If I were to reflect a month, I could come to no 
other conclusion.” 

“ But, Valdimir, there is Lady Arielle ! You were to 
have married her to-morrow !” exclaimed Brandon, in 
mock consternation. 

“ Oh, my soul ! There ! there is the wrench ! I 
must leave her 1 Leave her without even an explan- 
ation ! For I cannot break my innocent sister’s heart 
and blight her future by giving this infamous secret to 
the winds ! No, I must keep it ! I must leave and 
‘give no sign !’ — must let my lost love think of me as 
one fickle, false, unworthy of her regard ! Best so ! 
Best for her future happiness that she should think of 
me so. She will be the better able to conquer her 
attachment to me. She is young yet, so young— a mere 
child ! She has a long future before her, and may have 


38 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


a happy one, in spite of this early sorrow. But oh, my 
lost love ! Oh, my darling ! My angel ! How shall I 
live ? How ? Oh, would to Heaven it were no crime 
to leave this world at one’s own will !” groaned Valdi- 
mir. 

“ Do not speak so despondently. Take courage. 
You, too, have a long life before you,” said Coyle. 

“ ‘ I, too, have a long life before me !’ Ah ! that is 
the worst of it ! It requires more courage to live than 
to die ! Heaven only knows how I shall bear my 
blasted life !” muttered Valdimir, bitterly, in a half- 
suffocated voice, as he once more bowed his agonized 
face upon his hands. 

” Desparde, I was an ass to tell you this secret. I 
don’t know what in the demon induced me to do it ! I 
wish I had been struck dumb before I did it !” ex- 
claimed Brandon, with hypocritical affectation of de- 
spair, as he started up and began to pace the floor. 

” Your sense of honor induced you to do it. You 
could not have done otherwise,” replied Valdimir, in a 
tong pathetic in its resignation. 

“Desparde, listen to me!" exclaimed Coyle, suddenly 
pausing before his friend, and speaking with apparent 
sincerity ; for he knew the nature of the man to whom 
he appealed. '■'Bury this secret in oblivion. Forget 
that you ever heard it. Stay here ; marry Lady Arielle ; 
and when the time conies, rule at Beaudevere and at 
Montjoie.” 

Yet once more, and for the last time, Valdimir 
dropped his hands and raised his face, pathetic in its 
despair, yet holy in its devotion, and said : 

“I am not even tempted to do such injustice. I 
could not do it, Brandon, even to save my heart from 
breaking, or my reason from failing. I must do right, 
even though I should go mad, as I think I should if it 


“the most unhappy man of men.” 39 

were not for my trust in Divine Providence. Yes, I 
must do right, and you must help me to do so.” 

“ Do you think it right to break your troth with Lady 
Arielle Montjoie ?” 

“ Ves ! for her own dear sake ! It is the only thing 
to do.” 

“ And to keep her in the dark as to your true 
motive ?” 

“ Yes, yes, for her own dear sake ! Else she would 
cherish the memory of the man whose misfortunes 
would only make him dearer to her heart. She must 
forget me. For her own future happiness and welfare 
she must forget me. And to do that she must not 
pity me.” 

“ This is self-devotion that I have never seen equalled. 
You are willing to be ‘ despised and rejected ’ that she 
may be happy !” exclaimed Brandon, with an affectation 
of enthusiastic admiration. 

“ If her happiness cannot be secured in any other 
way. — But oh ! that Lord Beaudevere should have kept 
this secret from me and allowed me to win the love of 
this dear girl and involved her peace of mind in my 
dark fate. Yet I cannot blame him. He acted from 
motives of pure benevolence. He could not have guessed 
that this secret would ever be discovered,” sighed Val- 
dimir. Then suddenly rising, he exclaimed : “ I must 
leave England this day ! I must set about my prepara- 
tions at once !” 

“ Desparde ! You are too hasty ! Consider !” cried 
Coyle, still speaking and acting, as he had spoken and 
acted from the first, vvith demoniac duplicity. 

“ I do consider. There is a train for Liverpool that 
stops at Miston at two o’clock. I must go by that to 
catch the Cunard steamer that sails for New York 
to-morrow. I must go without taking leave of any one ; 


40 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


but I will intrust you with three notes to deliver after I 
have gone — one to my sister, one to Lord Beaudevere, 
and — one — to— my betrothed,” concluded the unhappy 
young man, as his voice broke down, 

“ I wish you would think better of this, Valdimir.” 

“ Don’t attempt to turn me from my purpose. It is 
impossible. Do you not suppose I should prefer happi- 
ness to misery, if it were right to choose it ? Show your 
friendship, dear Brandon, by helping me to get off.” 

” I am at your service, Valdimir.” 

Desparde sat down at his writing-desk and wrote 
three short notes. 

The first, to Lord Beaudevere, was as follows : 

Cloudland, May 31st, 18 — , 

My Lord. — This morning I have discovered the secret 
of my parentage, which has been so long and so care- 
fully hidden from me, and which I must beg that you 
will still keep hidden from the world for the sake of 
ni)'^ dear sister. This discovery leaves me, as a man of 
honor, but one course to pursue — to abandon the coun- 
try, at once and forever. Thanking you most earnestly 
for all your kindness to myself and sister, and praying 
your continued protection for her, I am, my lord, most 
gratefully and affectionately yours, 

Valdimir Desparde. 

The second letter was to his sister: 

Cloudland, May 31st, 18 — . 

My Dearest Vivienne. — Irresistible circumstances 
compel me to leave England for an indefinite absence. 
I cannot explain the.se circumstances, nor must you 
seek to understand them. Such knowledge would not 
be profitable to you. Think as well of me as you can, 


THE MOST UNHAPPY MAN OF MEN.” 


41 


dear sister. Judge your brother by what you have 
known of him all your life. Pray for me daily, as I 
shall pray for you, and be sure that in whatever distant 
lands 1 may journey, or tarry, I shall alwa^'S remain 
Your faithful loving brother, 

Valdimir. 

The third letter, the hardest, coldest, briefest, was to 
his betrothed bride : 

Cloudland, May 31st, 18 — . 

Lady Arielle Montjoie. — The hand of fate is heavy 
upon me. I must leave England immediately, because 
I am not worthy to become your husband. Hoping 
that you may soon forget me, praying that your future 
life may be blessed and happy, I, who must not be any- 
thing nearer to you, yet beg to sign myself, what I must 
ever be. Your obedient servant, 

Valdimir Desparde. 

Having written these letters as well as he could with 
a disorganized mind and a shaking hand, the wretched 
young man folded, enveloped, sealed and superscribed 
them, and placed them in the hands of his companion. 

“ You will take charge of these, Brandon, and deliver 
them to their several addresses, after I have gone.” 

“ Yes ; but I can not, in all sincerity, say that I shall 
do it with pleasure,” replied Coyle, with a sigh. “ How 
soon after your departure shall I do this ?” he inquired. 

Valdimir hesitated and reflected for a minute, with 
his forehead dropped upon his hand, and then he said : 

“ Do not deliver any of them until to-morrow morn- 
ing. Let her have one more night of peace.” 

“ You have ready funds for your travelling expenses 
I hope,” suggested Coyle. 

“More than' two thousand pounds in hand. These 


42 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


funds were provided for a journey of another sort,” said 
Valdimir, bitterly, 

” Your wedding tour — I understand. Ah ! if I could 
pursuade you to forego this quixotic resolution of yours ! 
If I could prevail on you just to remain here and marry 
Lady Arielle to-morrow, and apply that money to the 
first intention !” exclaimed Brandon, with well simu- 
lated earnestness. 

“ Don’t ! don’t ! You torture me, Brandon !” cried 
Desparde, in a voice of pain. 

His preparations were soon completed, for he intend- 
ed to take no baggage except his valise. 

“ Now my boat is moored below. Suppose you let 
me take you to Miston by water ?” suggested Coyle. 

The two men left the room and went down stairs 
together without encountering any one. 

They left the castle by the water gate and stepped 
into Coyle’s boat, where the two oarsmen were seated, 
smoking their short clay pipes. 

Half an hour’s brisk rowing brought them to the 
little hamlet of Miston, where they landed. 

Leaving the boat in the care of the two oarsmen, 
the friends bent their steps to the railway station, 
which was situated about half a mile out of the town. 

During this walk Valdimir Desparde roused himself 
to sa)' : 

“ I must hear from her sometimes, Brandon I I shall 
go mad if I cannot hear, though I must never see her, 
or write to her again. You will write from time to time 
and let me know how she fares !” 

” Yes, certainly ; but tell me to what address shall I 
write ?” 

“ First, to the New York General Post-Office, after- 
wards as I shall advise you. But, stay ! take out your 
memorandum-book. I must give you another name. 


“ THE MOST UNHAPPY MAN OF MEN.” 43 

Ah ! already I am driven to an alias ! It would lead to 
discovery if you were to address me by my own name. 
Let me see — Jonathan Adams, That will do.” 

Brandon wrote the name down on his ivory tablets. 

They had now reached the railway station. 

They were in time, but with none to spare. 

Valdimir had just purchased his ticket when the train 
came rushing up. 

He took a hasty leave of his friend, snatched his 
valise, and jumped into a first-class carriage whose door 
the guard officiously held open. The train moved out 
of the station, and Valdimir Desparde was gone. 

Brandon Coyle looked after the retreating train until, 
with accelerating speed, it thundered out of sight, and 
then he stood on the deserted platform and laughed 
aloud. 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! That cap fits him to a nicety ! He 
never dreamed but what it belonged to him ! Why, it 
not only fits him exactly, but it has his name marked on 
it ! How could he suspect that it was not his own ?” 

With these enigmatical words, Brandon Coyle stepped 
down from the platform and bent his steps toward the 
boat. 

When the boat landed at Caveland he sprang out and 
hurried into the house to seek his sister. 

She was quite alone. 

“ Where are the rectory girls ?” he inquired. 

“ They have gone home. Went an hour ago. And I 
must say I think it very rude of you, Brandon, not to 
have returned in time to lunch with us,” replied Miss 
Coyle. 

“ But, my good sister, it has taken me all day to get 
Valdimir Desparde out of the neighborhood and on his 
way to America !” responded Brandon. “ He has taken 
the 2 p. M. train for Liverpool to catch the steamer that 


44 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


sails for New York to-morrow morning: So you may 
use the privilege of an old playmate and friend, and 
commence a correspondence with him by writing a 
letter of condolence, and directing it to the general 
post-office. New York city.” 

“ Oh, you glorious Brandon ! how capitally you have 
succeeded !” 

“ Where is the governor ?” inquired Brandon Coyle, 
after he had taken a second glass of wine. 

“ Uncle has gone for a ride over the estate with his 
bailiff.” 

“ When will he be home ?” 

“ Not until dinner-time.” 

“ Oh, then he is .safe for tw’o hours at least. Now, 
Aspirita, I want you to take me to that old secretary, 
and show me the secret drawer. I wish to replace this 
old newspaper now that it has done its work. Have 
you got the keys ?” 

“ No ; but I know where they are. Come with me,” 
said the girl, rising, and leading the way from the sit- 
ting-room to the library, wffiere, on a hook, concealed 
behind a hanging picture,* she found the bunch. 

“Now come with me to uncle’s bed-room. The sec- 
retary is in there, you know.” 

They went up stairs to the front chamber, where the 
tall old escritoire stood in a recess on the right side of 
the chimney. 

Aspirita unlocked the drawers, and told Brandon to 
pull them out for her, as they were heavy. 

He did so. 

She then pressed the spring of the secret recess behind 
and it flew open. 

“ See if there are any other papers in the drawer,” 
said Brandon. 

“ No, there are not. I told you so before, but I will 


“the most unhappy man of men.” 


45 


feci aj^ain. As to ‘ see,' that is impossible,” said As- 
pirita, as she put her hand in the dark recess and felt 
carefully. 

“ Well ?■’ demanded Brandon. 

“ I — do believe there is somethingf — a folded paper — 
or a thin pamphlet — but it feels so smooth, and fits so 
exactly into the bottom of the place, that I thought it 
was the bottom. And it almost breaks my finger-nails 
off to get it up. But, ah, here it is !” exclaimed the 
girl, as she succeeded in pulling out a thin pamphlet of 
about six inches long by four broad, with a glazed white 
paper cover, ornamented with the portrait of a dark and 
very handsome man, with large, dark, dreamy eyes, and 
crisply curling, silky black hair. 

There was no doubt of it — this picture was a perfect 
likeness of Brandon Coyle. 

Aspirita read the title of the pamphlet : 

“The Wonderful Life and Adventures of John Sims,the 
Quadroon Slave, alias Valdimir Desparde, gentleman, 
who was Executed for the Murder of his Master,” etc. 

Aspirita read this, gazed at the portrait of the slave 
murderer, and then at the face of her brother, and con- 
tinued to glance from one to the other, while her eyes 
dilated with horror. 

“ Well, what in the demon’s name have you there ! — 
the gorgon’s head ? — that you are turning to stone ?” 
impatiently demanded Brandon Coyle, drawing nearer 
to his .sister. 

“ Look ! Look ! Oh, look !” exclaimed Aspirita. 

They both bent over the page, and their cheeks 
blanched to marble. 

“ Ten thousand fiends ! How came this here ? Give 
it me, and I will burn it.^” cried Brandon Coyle, furi- 
ously. 

“ No ! no ! no ! I will read it ! I will know what it 


46 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


means ! I will ! 1 will ! I will !” exclaimed Aspirita, 
fiercely clutching the pamphlet. 

“ Very well ! The fate of Bluebeard’s wife be 
yours !” exclaimed Brandon, with a horrible laugh. 
“ But close the secretary first and come away, or we 
may be caught here.” 

With hands that shook so they could scarcely per- 
form their office, Aspirita closed and locked the secre- 
tary. 

The pair then went down stairs to replace the keys in 
their hiding-place, and finally withdrew to Miss Coyle’s 
private sitting-room, where, with. closed doors, they read 
that fatal story of crime and shame. 


CHAPTER IV. 

JOHN BEAUE, BARON BEAUDEVERE. 

, A merrier man, 

, Within the limits of becoming mirth, 

I never spent an hour’s talk withal. 

His eye begets occasion for his wit ; 

And every object that the one doth catch 
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest. 

Shakespeare. 

John Beaue, fourteenth Baron Beaudevere, was at 
this time a bachelor, sixty years of age. He was a man 
of medium height and slender form, with rather large, 
rough features, dark, ruddy complexion, iron-gray hair 
and mustache, bushy eyebrows, and keen, bright, hazel 
eyes. In character he was faithful, loyal, benevolent 
and hospitable ; in manners frank, simple, and merry 


JOHN BEAUE, BARON BEAUDEVERE. 


47 


as a boy — with a boy’s predilection for practical joking 
and harmless slang. 

He was a very “ home-seeking youth,” and except 
when his duties took him to London to fill his seat in 
the House of Lords during the session of Parliament, 
he was seldom to be found absent from Cloudland. 

He was very much attached to his adopted children, 
Valdimir and Vivienne Desparde, and had given them 
every social advantage that wealth in the hands of 
affection could bestow. 

The baron went out, as was his daily habit after lunch, 
to ride around his estate, and Vivienne went up to her 
room to gratify her eyes with another view of her 
bride-maid’s finery that was intended to be worn the 
next day. 

The guardian and ward did not see each other again 
until they met in the drawing-room that evening, 

” Well, my dear, where is Valdimir 7 Haven’t seen 
the fellow all day. Not at lunch you know. What 
shall we do, Vivvy, my love ? Wait any longer or dine, 
without him — eh ?” inquired the baron. 

“Dine without him, Beaue, dear! Most likely Val 
has gone home to dinner with Bran Coyle. He went 
out with him, you know,” replied Vivienne. 

“ So ! To be sure ! That is it ! Serve dinner, Tomkins !” 

So the guardian and ward dined, as they had lunched, 
tete-a-tete. 

And after dinner the guardian and ward sat up much 
later than was their custom, in the hope of his return. 
But when the clock struck twelve the baron arose and 
rang for bedroom candles, and said : 

“ It is no use our waiting any longer, Vivvy. He is 
‘ making a night of it ’ with his friends in Caveland, 
who have given him an impromptu bachelor’s entertain- 
ment to finish up his bachelor life with. That must be 


48 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


it, my dear. Well, it is a disappointment for us, Vivvy ; 
but we can trust him. He is so temperate. He has 
never been know to exceed, even at a bachelor’s sup- 
per. Good night, my love. God bless you !” he con- 
cluded, as he took a lighted wax candle from the little 
silver waiter brought in by the footman, and put it in 
her hand, and then took a second one for himself. 

So they separated, and retired to rest, somewhat 
disappointed in not having had the company of Val- 
dimir on that last evening, but not the least anxious, 
never foreboding the thunderbolt destined to descend 
upon their hearth in the morning. 

No ; thanks to the forethought of poor Valdimir 
Desparde, in directing the delay in the delivery of his 
letters, his friends would sleep well during the night, 
whatever the day might bring. 

In the morning Vivienne arose early and dressed 
hastily and simply, intending to go down and breakfast 
with her guardian before making her grand toilet for 
the wedding. 

It was but eight o’clock when she went down into the 
breakfast-room, where she found the baron waiting. 

“ Ah ! good morning, you imp ! I thought you’d be . 
behind time after sitting up so late last night,” was his 
greeting to the girl. 

” But you didn’t think rig/it, 'Qes.ncl You never do 
think right! You can’t do it! You oughtn’t to try! 
You ought to get me to think for you,” she replied. 

” And then I should be clapped into a lunatic asy- 
lum, especially if I should act on your thought,” he 
retorted. 

“Well, that would be the safest place for you, Beaue, 
my boy. But where is Val ? Not down yet ?” 

“ No, I suppose he' did not get home until near day, 
and he is sleeping off the effects of his frolic.” 


JOHN REAUE, BARON BEAUDEVERE. 


49 


“ Oh, blit he must be waked up ! See, it is nearly 
half-past eight, and we must leave not a minute later 
than half-past nine !” exclaimed Vivienne, giving the 
bell handle an energetic pull. 

“ Go and call Mr. Desparde immediately. Go call 
him to breakfast,” burst forth the baron, impatiently. 

“ If you please, my lord, Mr. Desparde has not been 
home since he left with Mr. Brandon yesterday.” 

“ Good Heaven !" exclaimed the baron, in dismay. 
“ Do you mean to tell me that Mr. Desparde did not 
return either late last night, after we had retired, or 
early this morning ?” 

“ If you please, my lord, it is the truth.” 

“ Good Heaven !” again exclaimed the baron. 

“ Oh, Beaue, what can have happened ?” cried Vivi- 
enne, clasping Her hands and turning pale. 

“ I don’t know !” burst forth the baron, beginning to 
walk up and down the floor in his anxiety. 

“Oh, good gracious, Beaue ! what shall we do?” 
cried Vivienne, walking after him. 

“ I don’t know !” exclaimed the old man, in his dis- 
traction. Then turning to the servant, he demanded : 

“ Have any of you heard of any accident on the bay 
— 3^esteiday or this morning ?” 

“ No, my lord, none.” 

“ You would have heard before this if there had been 
an accident ?” 

“ Oh, yes, my lord ! Ken, the fisherman from Miston, 
was here with fresh fish caught this morning, and he 
would know of any accident on the water.” 

“ Certainly ! There is some relief in that !” 

“ Oh, dear Beaue, send for his valet ! He may be 
able to throw some light on this matter,” pleaded Viv- 
ienne, who was too uneasy to be still, but kept moving 
about from place to place. 


50 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Go and send Perkins here,” said the baron. 

Tomkins left and was succeeded by Mr. Desparde’s 
valet. 

“ Perkins, do you know where your master has gone ?” 
demanded the baron. 

‘‘ No, my lord, except that my master went out in a 
boat about noon yesterday with Mr. Brandon Coyle. I 
saw the boat from the window, my lord.” 

“ Did Mr. Desparde leave any orders with you, or any 
messages for others ?” 

” No, ’my lord.” 

“ Did you see him before he left ?” 

” No, my lord. I did not see my master from the 
time I waited on him at his morning toilet before 
breakfast to the time I saw him step into the boat with 
Mr. Brandon Coyle.” 

“ At what hour was that ?” 

“ At noon yesterday, or it might have been a little 
later.” 

“ And he said nothing to you at any time of his inten- 
tion of spending the day and night out ?" 

Not one word, my lord.” 

“ And you have no idea where he has gone ?” 

‘‘ None whatever, my lord.” 

“ Most extraordinary ! He must have gone home 
with Mr. Coyle, and spent the evening there. A bach- 
elor s party, perhaps. It is nine o’clock, and I shall go 
over to Caveland and bring Mr. Coyle to his bearings,” 
said the baron, vehemently. 

In five minutes more the baron was seated in his 
boat, rowed by two strong-armed oarsmen. 

In half an hour’s time they drew near the rocky 
heights known as Caveland, from which the gray tur- 
rets of the manor-house arose, scarcely distinguishable 
from the gray crags around it. 


JOHN'BEAUE, BARON BEAUDEVERE. 


51 


Leaving the boat in charge of the boatman, Lord 
Beaudevere climbed the stone steps and found himself 
on the natural range of highly cultivated terraces 
adorned with trees, fountains, statues, and parterres of 
flowers, on the highest of which stood the mansion, 
built of gra)^ rock in the irregular but picturesque 
style of the Tudors. 

Stepping briskly along the white graveled walks and 
up the short flights of marble steps that led from ter- 
race to terrace, he reached, at last, the house, and was 
ushered into a room upholstered in crimson velv^et and 
black walnut. At a round breakfast table, covered 
with a white cloth, adorned with a silver and white ser- 
vice, and provided with all the dainties of the hour, 
sat an old gentleman, short, thick, fat, round-headed, 
gray-haired and rosy-faced. 

On seeing his visitor enter, he jumped up blithely, 
folded his yellow-flowered silk dressing-gown around 
his knees and came forward with “ welcome ” in every 
look and gesture. 

“ Good morning, my lord ! Should have thought you 
would have been on your way to the wedding by this 
time, but am ever so glad you are not. Too much 
fatigue and excitement for old folks like you and me ! 
Glad you have come over to keep me company, Hope 
you haven’t breakfasted. Here is some fine herring, 
fresh out of the sea this morning. Here, Bennet, a 
plate and napkin for his lordship. Take this chair, my 
lord.” 

“ Thanks,” replied the baron, dropping into the 
offered seat, “but do not let me interrupt you, I 
breakfasted before leaving home. I came to inquire 
for my — for Mr. Desparde.” 

“ Valdimir ? Why, we haven’t seen him at the house 
for a month. My young people have complained of 


52 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


his neglect. But I told them all his time and attention 
were due to his betrothed.” 

“ Valdimir, not here !” exclaimed the baron, in con- 
sternation. 

‘‘ Why, of course not. He must be at Montjoie Castle 
by this time,” replied the wondering old gentleman, 
who was sorely puzzled by the words and manner of 
his visitor. 

“ Where is Mr. Brandon ? I must see him.” 

“ Lord ! He and Aspirita have gone to the wed- 
ding.” 

“Then I must set off for Castle Montjoie at once !” 
exclaimed the baron 


CHAPTER V. 

THE BRIDE. 

A child all lightness, life and glee. 

One of the shapes we seem 
To meet in visions of the night. 

And should they greet our waking sight, 

Imagine that we dream. George Hill. 

Sunrise on the first of June ! Sunrise on the moun- 
tain ! 

An early hour at this season, yet all the household of 
Montjoie are astir, for this is the wedding-day of 
Arielle, the only child and last representative of the 
Montjoies, Earls of Altofaire. 

She is but a child, for on this, her bridal day, she 
will only have completed her seventeenth year. 

Arielle Montjoie is the latest, fairest blossom on the 


TflE BRIDE. 


53 


old genealogical tree. She is the great-granddaughter 
of Guyon Montjoie, Earl of Altofaire, and Constance, 
his countess — a pair of noble octogenarians, who, like 
Job, have seen all their children depart before them 
leaving only this youngest child of their youngest 
grandson — this frailest flower of all their flock ; for it 
was said of her by the simple country folk around that 
she looked as if a breeze might have blown her away. 

The earl and countess loved this child as only such 
aged ancestors can love such a surviving descendant. 

They wished, if it were possible, to see her well mar- 
ried, and to see her children before they themselves 
should be called to leave the earth. 

Her hand had been sought by one of whom they en- 
tirely approved, hence there was no hesitation in their 
consent, and no delay in the marriage which was to be 
celebrated as soon as suitable preparations could be 
made for the occasion. 

Valdimir Desparde and Arielle Montjoie had been 
friends, playmates and lovers ever since the time when 
he, a boy of six summers, had been brought to the 
neighborhood by his guardian. Lord Beaudevere, and 
for want of more suitable companions, had made 
acquaintance with her, a baby of two springs. 

Thus their love was not the fiery, impulsive passion, 
at first sight, of a Romeo and Juliet, but a deep, integral 
sympathy, a natural and spiritual affinity, having its 
life-springs in the innermost recesses of their souls, 
being intertwined with every fibre of their natures, 
“ growing with their growth and strengthening with 
their strength,” until they seemed one in mind and 
heart, soul and spirit. 

This unity was so well recognized and approved by 
mutual friends and relatives, that when the youth, hav- 
ing attained his majority, solicited the hand of the 


54 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


maiden, then in her seventeenth year, it was accorded 
him with prompt affection and confidence. 

And now the marriage-day and hour was fixed for 
eleven o’clock on this first morning of June. 

All was ready for the festival. 

Great preparations had been made to celebrate the 
occasion and jentertain the guests. 

All the halls, saloons, and state-rooms were splendidly 
fitted up and beautifully decorated. 

The young lady of the castle arose that morning as 
early as any of her attendants. 

Arielle was such a little, dainty blossom. She 
was very small, scarcely any taller than a child of 
twelve, and much slighter than such a child would 
usually be, but with a perfectly moulded form, slender, 
yet well rounded, as if the soft, plump, roseate flesh 
covered very small bones. Every attitude and move- 
ment of this delicate and graceful creature was light 
and swift as that of a kitten or a bird. Her complexion 
was dazzlingly fair, of a transparent opaline, changing 
white and pink, with ruby red lips, sapphire blue eyes, 
and tiny Grecian features, brightened by an aureole of 
fine spiral ringlets almost silvery in their shining 
fairness. 

“ I wonder if he is up yet,” she murmured low, as she 
gazed on the distant chimneys of Cloudland. ” I wonder 
even if he is awake yet ? I wonder what he is thinking 
of, or dreaming of, waking or sleeping > Oh, but I 
know ! / knoiv !" she concluded, with a sweeter smile. 

‘‘In a few hours he will be here,” she resumed. “ In 
how many hours ? Let me see what o’clock it is now,’’ 
glancing over her shoulder to the elegant little ormolu 
time-piece on the mantel-shelf. “Just six! How 
early it is yet ! And he will not be here until eleven ! 
Five hours I Five centuries it seems ! But oh, when 


THE BRIDE. 


65 


he does come he will stay with me forever ! ’Every day 
he has come before this he has had to go away and 
leave me ! Ev’-ery day for more years than I can count 
we have met only to part. And oh, how I dread the 
parting hour ! But now, oh ! blessed truth ! we shall 
meet to part no more so long as we both shall live ! 
Oh, to think of that !” 

“ Ah, what is this ?” she exclaimed, as the dread crept 
into her heart and the shudder shook her frame. “ If 
something should happen to prevent our marriage even 
on this last day! But I am a fool! Nothing could 
happen. I will ring for Lacy,” she said, as she pulled 
the bell-handle. 

In a few moments the door opened and Lacy entered. 

“ Is our breakfast ready 

” It will be by the time you have taken your bath, 
my lady. I told cook as I came up.” 

“ That was right. Are the young ladies up yet ?” 

“ Yes, my lady, they are all in your sitting-room, 
where the cloth is laid for your breakfast, my lady.” 

“And the other people — the visitors in the house?” 

“They are not down yet, my lady. His lordship and 
her ladyship are in the breakfast-room waiting for them.” 

“ Well. Lacy, go and tell the young ladies that I will 
join them in the sitting-room in less than half an hour. 
Then return here to dress me,” said Arielle. 

The young lady passed into her dressing-room, 
whence, in less time than she had specified, she 
emerged, simply clothed in a pale rose silk robe. 

She crossed the upper hall and entered a front room 
directly opposite her chamber. 

This room was occupied by two girls singularly alike 
in form and face, though they were only first cousins. 

Antoinette Deloraine, the elder by a few months, was 
of medium size and well-proportioned form, with a fair 


56 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


forehead, ’from which the dark brown hair was brushed 
smoothly away to be wound in a large mass at the nape 
of the graceful neck ; arched eyebrows, large, dark gray 
eyes, straight nose, full red lips and round chin. 

Net Starr was a perfect counterpart of her cousin in 
form and face, but not in complexion or expression ; an 
“ intellectual paleness ” added to the statuesque nobility 
of the finely-moulded features, and harmonized with the 
pensive aspect of the tender, downcast eyes, and the 
sweet, grave lips. 

The soft entrance of Arielle had disturbed neither of 
the girls. 

“ Antonia ! Net ! Good-morning, dears !” exclaimed 
Arielle, floating towards them. 

Antonia threw her arms around Arielle’s neck and 
embraced her warmly, exclaiming : 

“What a splendid day for your wedding, my darling ! 

‘ Blessed is the bride that the sun shines on !’ But I am 
as hungry as a hunter, so you must allow me to ring for 
breakfast," she added, crossing the room, and pulling 
the bell-handle. 

Meanwhile Net Starr arose and received her hostess’s 
morning kiss, merely saying : 

“ I hope you will be very happy, Arielle." 

And now, while they are waiting for breakfast, I 
must tell you something of these two “ rectory girls," 
who were destined to play important parts in this 
domestic drama. 

They were first cousins, being the daughters of the 
two brothers, Albert and Arthur Deloraine. They 
were namesakes, too, both being called after their 
father's mother, Antoinette Deloraine ; so that Netty 
Starr, besides being almost the personal counterpart of 
her wealthier cousin, had legally the same name and 
style. But there the similarity ceased ; for there was 


Tnic BRinfi. 


a difference in the destinies of the two girls that re- 
sulted in the younger one being ealled by a name to 
whieh she had no right — an error that began in care- 
lessness, and ended, as carelessness too often does, in 
calamity. 

Antoinette Deloraine was the only child and sole 
heiress of Albert Deloraine, who, being the eldest son 
of his father, Archibald Deloraine, Esq., of Deloraine 
Park, County of Devon, inherited the family estates, 
and, dying, left them to his daughter. 

Antoinette Deloraine, the younger, miscalled Net 
Starr, was the only child of Arthur Deloraine, the 
younger son, who inherited nothing, and dying, left it 
to his daughter. But the widow of Arthur, and the 
mother of Net, when the child was about five years old, 
married the Reverend Luke Starr, Rector of St. 
Michael’s. And so the little one grew to be called, by 
her playmates and others, Netty Starr — Net “ for short ” 
and Starr for her step-father. And this name so clung 
to her that old friends forgot and strangers never knew 
she had a right to any other. 

But all the time the name of- Antoinette Deloraine 
belonged as much to Net Starr as to her wealthier and 
more aristocratic cousin. 

Both girls were now motherless as well as fatherless, 
and both were inmates of the rectory, Antoinette Delo- 
raine as the ward and Net Starr as the step daughter 
of the widowed rector. 

They had been the companions and were now the 
chosen bride-maids of Lady Arielle Montjoie. 

A few moments after Antoinette had rung the bell, 
the summons was answered by the appearance of 
Adams, the footman, bringing in the breakfast-tray. 

The three girls gathered around tlie table and then 
dismissed the servant that they might talk more freely. 


58 


THK SKELETON IN THE OLOSET. 


Here they chatted gayly for a half-hour, discussing 
the lately arrived guests and the presents. 

“ Come, girls !” said Net, at length, rising. “ It is 
eight o’clock. The ceremony is to be performed at 
eleven. We have but three hours till then, and it wull 
take every minute of three hours to dress our bride and 
then ourselves ; for we are resolved, Arielle, that Lacy 
shall not have ///a/ honor.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

FROM SMILES TO TEARS. 

She turned, and the lady’s gaze brought back 
Each hue of her childhood’s faded track. 

Oh, hush the song and let her tears 
Flow to the dream of her early years ! 

Holy and pure are the drops that fall 

When the young bride goes from her natal hall ! 

She goes unto love yet untried and new, 

She parts from love that hath still been true. 

Felicia Hemans. 

They all arose from the table and then crossed the 
hall and entered the chamber of the bride elect. 

Here, spread out on the bed, lay the bridal dress of 
white Brussels lace over white satin, garnished with 
festoons of white lilies of the valley. Near it lay the 
long Brussels lace vail and wreath of orange buds and 
lilies of the valley. On a table beside the bed lay the 
white embroidered kid gloves, the white kid boots, the 
lace handkerchief and lace fan, and the bouquet of 
white rosebuds. 


FROM SMILES TO TEARS. 


59 


“Oh, how beautiful!” exclaimed both the girls, 
standing over to admire this elegant toilet. 

“What time will your future sister-in law, Vivienne, 
join us ?” inquired Antoinette. 

“ She will come with Valdimir. She will join us 
before we go down, as she is to be my first bride-maid, 
but Valdimir will remain below with Adrian Fleming, 
his best-man, and meet us at the church,” replied 
Arielle. 

At the mention of Adrian Fleming’s name both girls 
changed color, and while Antoinette stooped as if to 
examine the silk embroidery on the bridal gloves, Net 
Starr moved softly away and looked out of the window. 

Antoinette was the first to recover herself. 

“ Now,” she said, with mock ceremony, “ if your 
ladyship will be pleased to take your seat in that chair, 
I will dress your ladyship’s hair.” 

Then Arielle sat down in her dressing-chair and sub- 
mitted to the hands of the loving friends who insisted, 
“ for that occasion only,” on doing lady’s-maid’s duty. 

Her fair hair, almost silvery in its brightness, was 
arranged in light, flossy ringlets that well suited her 
opaline complexion and fragile form. Then the bridal 
dress was put on. 

The Beaudevere diamonds, a gift from the bride- 
groom were added. 

Then the long Brussels lace vail, with its wreath of 
orange flower buds, and the kid gloves and bootees. 

Lastly, Netty put in her hand the costly lace hand- 
kerchief, and Antonia gave her the choice bouquet of 
ro.sebuds, and the bridal toilet was complete. 

Then they bade her stand up and look at herself ; 
which she did— blushing at the involuntary recognition 
of her own beauty. 

“ Now you have nothing to do but stand there an^^ 


60 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


admire yourself, while we go and get dressed,” said 
Antonia, gayly. 

Net said nothing, but she stooped and kissed Arielle’s 
cheek. 

Then both the bride-maids left the room, closing the 
door behind them. 

As soon as she was left alone, Arielle sank into her 
chair and into thought. She was roused from her 
reverie by a light tap at her room door. 

“ Come in,” she said, gently, thinking that her bride- 
maids had returned. 

But the door opened and a stately and gracious old 
couple entered the room — the Earl and Countess of 
Altofaire, the great-grandparents of the betrothed bride. 

Arielle arose and went to meet them. 

She threw herself in the arms of her grandmother, 
and then in those of her grandfather, and was warmly 
embraced by both. 

‘‘ We have come to see and bless our child, before we 
give her up,” said the aged lady, looking tenderly into 
the lovely face that she held between her white-gloved 
hands. 

The young girl folded her fair hands, and bowed her 
beautiful head before the aged grandparents, and they 
prayed for her, and blessed her, and then softly turned 
away and left the room. 

The clock struck the quarter to eleven. 

The two bride-maids came bustling in, with bright 
faces. 

“ How lovely you both look !” exclaimed Arielle, as 
she gazed at them in their airy dresses of white tulle 
over white silk, with garnitures of white roses. 

” Where is Vivienne ? Has she not come yet ?” 

” No ; but she will be here in a moment, no doubt,” 

"•wered Arielle, 


FROM SMILES TO TEARS. 


61 


“ But I think it is not very courteous in them to put 
off coming to the very last minute. It would have 
looked better for them to have come a little earlier,” 
said Antonia. 

” Oh, we do not know what may have delayed them 
for a quarter of an hour or so,” suggested Net, as she 
walked around the bride re-arranging the folds of her 
dress and the fall of her vail, both of which had become 
somewhat disordered by the warm embraces of her 
grandparents. 

The clock began to strike the hour of the marriage, 
every stroke stabbing the bosom of the waiting bride, 
whose prophetic heart foreboded — she knew not what 
evil ! 

” There ! The hour has come, and the bridegroom 
not !” exclaimed Antonia. 

“Oh, the delay of a few moments is nothing!” said 
Net, soothingly. 

But when the clock chimed the half hour without any 
sign of the expected bridegroom, the vague anxiety 
began to creep over Arielle’s heart also. She sat down 
in gloomy silence. 

Antonia stood at the window looking out. 

Net walked softly about the room, sometimes pausing 
by Arielle’s chair, sometimes glancing through the 
windows. 

At length, in irrepressible excitement, Arielle sprang 
up and rang her bell. 

In a few moments Lacy answered it. 

' “ Are there many people down stairs, do you know ?” 

inquired Arielle. 

“Oh, yes, my lady ! Every room is crowded.” 

“And the earl and countess?” 

“Standing in the front drawing-room to receive all 
that come, and I think as everybody have come now — 


62 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


except — ” The girl paused, and looked embarrassed, 
as if she had said too much. 

“ Well, except — whom ?” 

“Except Mr. Desparde and his party, my lady. I 
think they are waiting for him.” 

“ Go and send a message by Adams, with my respects, 
to the earl, and ask him if he can be so kind as to come 
and see me here in this room. I must not go to him, I 
suppose,” said the young lady, almost too much agitated 
to control her impulse to fly down stairs and confront 
her grandparents with the question that was distracting 
her mind. 

The lady’s maid withdrew and went on her errand. 

In a few moments the earl entered. 

Arielle flew towards him, exclaiming : 

“ Oh, grandfather, what can be the meaning of this ? 
What keeps Valdimir away ? Do you know t Have you 
heard ?” 

“ I have heard nothing, my love. We are expecting 
him every moment. Do not be uneasy, dear. Any one 
of a thousand things might have happened, of no impor- 
tance in themselves, yet sufficient to cause delay,” said 
the earl, cheerfully. 

“ Oh, grandpa, w/m/ could have happened ? Oh ! dear, 
there is something so heavy here, as if it would suffocate 
me, almost ! It is not all the effect of suspen.se and 
anxiety. It is — a presentiment^ grandpa ! I felt it this 
morning when I first looked out I” murmured Arielle, 
as she dropped from sheer faintness into her chair. 

“ Tut, tut, my darling ! ‘ Presentiment ?’ What non- 

sense is that ? There ! Carriage wheels ! I have not 
heard any for an hour. That must be the bridegroom !” 
exclaimed the earl, briskly, as he stepped to the win- 
dow. 

Arielle sprang up with new life. 


FROM SMILES TO TEARS. 


63 


“ Is it ? Is it ?” she cried, crossing the room, while 
Antonia and Net looked out from a second window. 

“ N-n-no,” answered the old gentleman, slowly. “ It 
seems to be the Coyle livery. It is. There are Brandon 
and Aspirita ! They are late also. vSomething delayed 
them, and something has delayed our bridegroom. 
Patience !” 

Arielle dropped into the nearest seat — an arm-chair 
at the window — and turned so pale that Netty hastened 
to her with a bottle of aromatic salts. 

Presently there came a low, discreet rap at the cham- 
ber door. 

“ Enter, then !” exclaimed the earl, rather testily. 

Adams, the ladies’ footman, came in with two cards 
on a silver plate, which he presented to his master. 

“‘Miss Coyle,’ ‘Mr. Brandon Coyle.’ Well, well! 
What do you bring them up here for ?’’ exclaimed the 
earl, impatiently. 

“ Oh, grandpa, the quickest way to learn his errand 
is to go down and see Mr. Coyle I And send Aspirita 
up to me. Oh ! I know, I know something has hap- 
pened to Valdimir, and they' are sent to tell us,” 
exclaimed Arielle, wringing her hands in anguish. 

The earl left the room attended by the footman. 

Presently the door opened again, the footman an- 
nounced : 

“ Miss Coyle,” and retired. 

Aspirita, in no wedding garment, but in an ordinary 
walking-suit, entered the room, and silently shook 
hands with the bride and her bride-maids. 

Her grave face and slow movements increased the 
terror and anxiety of Arielle and her companions. 

“ You have come to bring me bad news, Aspirita,” 
.said Arielle, with a forced calmness that her whole 
aspect contradicted. 


64 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Miss Coyle bent her head in silent assent. 

“Yes — I knew it !— Well, tell me. You need not 
break it to me — I — I am prepared !” she gasped, with a 
suffocating dry sob — “ only — don’t — don’t tell me he 
is dead — or — ’’ her voice broke down in a storm of emo- 
tion. 

“ He is not dead, or likely to die. He is quite well !” 
exclaimed Aspirita, in a clear, ringing, almost revenge- 
ful voice. 

“ He is quite well ! Oh, I thank the Lord ! Since he 
is well, I am not so painfully anxious as I have been for 
the last two hours.” 

“ I have brought a note from Valdimir to you,” said 
Aspirita, drawing from her pocket a sealed white envel- 
ope, and handing it to Arielle. “ The note reached me 
through my brother’s hands. It was given him by Mr. 
Desparde, with the request that he should ask me to 
place it in Lady Arielle’s hands.” 

In the meanwhile, Arielle, in some little trepidation, 
had opened and unfolded her note, and read as fol- 
lows : 

Cloudland, May 31st, 18 — . 

Lady Arielle Montjoie. — The hand of fate is heavy 
upon me. I must leave England immediately, because 
I am not worthy to become your husband. Hoping 
that you may soon forget me, praying that your future 
life may be blessed and happy, I, who must not be any- 
thing nearer to you, yet beg to sign myself, what I 
must ever be. Your obedient servant, 

Valdimir Desparde. 

She was sitting far back in that deep arm-chair, 
which the full flow of her bridal vail and robes seemed 
to fill. Her eyes were bent upon the lines of the note, 
and her cheeks were as white as its paper. 



XHK KATAI< ^EWS.— 05^ 






FROM SMILES TO TEARS. 


65 


Her three companions stood around her, watching 
with interest. 

They saw her face change as she read — change as a 
face changes when struck with death. Her eyes grew 
stony, her features rigid, her hands fell heavily upon 
her lap, the letter slipped from their hold and fell to the 
carpet. 

Net Starr knelt before her, took both her frozen 
hands and pressed them in her own, and murmured 
words of anxious love and sympathy. 

“Arielle, dear Arielle, speak to me ! What is it 
love.? Tell me !” 

But the stricken bride lay back in her chair, with 
blanched face, fixed eyes, and parted lips, breathing 
quickly as one in the throes of death. 

“ Oh, Heaven, she is dying ! She is dying ! An- 
tonia, fetch the salts ! Quick ! Quick ! Oh, this is 
terrible !” exclaimed Net, in an agony of alarm. 

Miss Deloraine hastened to the dressing-table and 
brought the bottle. 

Net, still kneeling before the stricken one, took the 
ammonia and held it to her nostrils. 

Antonia and Aspirita, standing on each side of the 
chair, took each a hand of Arielle, and began to rub and 
chafe it. 

In the midst of all this steps were heard approaching 
the door, and the Earl of Altofaire suddenly entered, 
in a state of agitation which even his habitual sense of 
dignity did not attempt to control. 

“ Where is my child ? Where is my outraged and 
insulted child ?” 

Net arose from her knees, and the three girls made 
way for the old man, who approached Arielle. 

“ My darling ! My darling ! Summon all your self- 
respect and fortitude. Bear up bravely against this 


66 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


blow. He was not worthy of you ! He was most 
unworthy of you. You are well rid of him, even at the 
price of this pain. I am glad he is gone, Arielle ! 
Glad the accursed villain has gone ! Oh, how long we 
may associate intimately with a man and not know 
him !” exclaimed the earl, pouring out his indignation 
without looking closely at the death-like face before 
him. 

“ It is not true — It is not true — A bad dream — Oh, a bad 
dream !” came in .short gasps from the ashen lips. 

He went out of the room to seek and find his family 
physician, who was among the wedding guests. 

Meanwhile, Net Starr called Antonia to her assist- 
ance, and they began to take off, in grief, the bridal 
robes from the forsaken bride, whom, a few hours 
before, they had dressed for her bridegroom in joy ! 

The interview between the earl and Brandon Coyle 
in the drawing-room had been no less stirring than that 
which occurred in Arielle’s apartment. Brandon, by a 
fiendishly mangled tissue of truth and falsehood had 
completely deceived the earl, as he had previously 
deceived his friend, and had shielded himself from the 
least suspicion of complicity in the flight of the fugitive 
bridegroom, and now he triumphed in the perfect suc- 
cess of his schemes. 

Brandon stated that he had been persuaded to accom- 
pany his friend Valdimir to the railway station on the 
previous day. The latter was equipped as if for a long 
journey, and acted all the while in a mysterious and 
inexplicable manner. 

At the last moment, not until the train began to 
move, Valdimir threw a packet from the window of 
the coach, giving the verbal injunction to attend to the 
requests written in a note within the packet. 

On opening the packet, so the deceiver represented, 


FROM SMILES TO TEARS. 


67 


he found a brief note addressed to him, and three sealed 
and addressed letters. The words of the note adjured 
him by many references to their friendship to strictly 
carry out its injunctions. 

It requested that the accompanying letters be deliv- 
ered the following day at twelve o’clock noon. 

The earl was amazed, shocked and enraged by 
turns at the revelations. He could explain Valdimir’s 
strange conduct on no other grounds than that he had 
been guilty of some low entanglement, whose threaten- 
ing publicity he sought to escape at the last moment 
by flight. 

This view of the case struck Brandon at once as one 
favoring his schemes, and he strengthened the earl’s 
suspicions by many innuendoes. 

Brandon expressed his sympathy, and offered himself 
at the earl’s command. 

The earl thanked him heartily, and then Brandon 
Coyle withdrew, gloating over the success of his duplic- 
ity. 

Meanwhile Lord Altofaire had gone up to his grand- 
daughter’s chamber, and finding her utterly over- 
whelmed by the shock of her bridegroom’s desertion, 
he left her in the hands of her attendants and hastened 
down stairs to seek their family physician. 

He did not wish to create a confusion. He put a 
strong constraint upon himself and entered the draw- 
ing-room, where some hundreds of gentlemen and 
ladies had been waiting for hours and wondering what 
could have happened to delay the marriage ceremony 
they had come to witness. 

All these distinguished wedding guests the earl had 
cordially welcomed on their arrival, and now, when they 
saw him enter, very quiet and very pale, and go directly 
to old Dr. Bennet, speak low and take him out, a whisper 


68 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


went around the room that some one had been taken 
ill. 

It is wonderful how sometimes truth becomes known 
without the help of human agency. Somehow a part 
of the truth crept in among the wedding guests, so that 
the phrase, “ Someone has been taken ill,” gave place to 
the phrase, “ The bride has been taken ill.” 

Thus was the way smoothed for the announcement 
of the physician, half an hour later, that — 

“ Lady Arielle Montjoie was attacked with a sudden 
and severe illness, and so there could be no wedding 
that day, but he was authorized by the earl and count- 
ess to beg the company would proceed to the din- 
ing-room and partake of the refreshments that had 
been provided for the wedding feast before leaving 
Montjoie.” 

The guests had been fasting since the early breakfast 
they had partaken of before leaving their homes, and it 
was now some time'past their usual luncheon hour ; so 
with many 'expressions of sympathy and concern for 
the illness of the bride and the affliction of her aged 
grandparents, they all passed into the dining-room and 
crowded around the table. 

From their presence the doctor went out to the great 
gathering of tenantry and laborers that were assembled 
in the grounds, where the news of the bride’s illness 
had already preceded him, and stopped all the games 
that had been on foot. 

Here the doctor formally announced the fact and 
invited them, in the name of their hosts, to go into the 
tents, where bread, cheese, beef and ale had been set 
forth for the men, and tea, cakes and fruit for the 
women and children. 

The out door guests, with loud lamentations for the 
trouble that had befallen their landlord and his family. 


SOMK LIGHT ON A DARK SUBJECT. 


69 


nevertheless flocked to the tables and enjoyed the 
good things set before them with an exceedingly keen 
appetite, in a manner best pleasing to themselves — the 
women often beginning their feast with the more sub- 
stantial “ victuals,” and the men supplementing theirs 
with the lighter dainties, supposed to be the exclusive 
privilege of the woman and children. 

Meanwhile Dr. Bennet returned to watch by the bed- 
side of his patient, whom he had left sleeping under the 
influence of a narcotic, and relieved the earl, whom so- 
licitude had kept as a sentinel in the sick-room, but who 
now came down stairs and re-entered the library, where 
he had left Brandon Coyle waiting. 


CHAPTER VII. 

SOME LIGHT ON A DARK SUBJECT. 

Farewell ! The troublous and the tearful time 
Cuts of! all ceremonious shows to-day, 

And ample interchange of sweet discourse. 

Which we, long sundered friends, should dwell upon. 
God give us comfort for these woes of love ! 

Shakespeare. 

When Lord Beaudevere left Caveland he hurried 
into his boat and ordered the oarsmen to row rapidly 
for Castle Montjoie. 

The men did their best, they pulled vigorously, yet it 
was an hour from the time they left Caveland until 
they reached the foot of the stone steps that led up 
the rock upon which the castle was founded. 

A rude, old stronghold, it seemed from this water 
view a cluster of massive round towers, built of rough- 


70 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


hewn stone and enclosed in a strong, high wall of the 
same. It was a long, irregular, fatiguing ascent from 
the water side to the castle gate ; but having passed 
that and entered the court-yard, the view inland was 
beautiful exceedingly, with gardens and ornamented 
grounds near, and beyond, rich, green fields, deep, shady 
groves and crystal streams. 

The scene was enlivened by many white tents and a 
multitude of gayly-dressed men, women and children, 
who had doubtless come to the expected wedding. 

Some of these were, however, getting into light carts, 
as if about to take their departure. Also several hand- 
some carriages were seen taking their way along the 
winding avenue leading through the park to the turn- 
pike road beyond. 

Now it must be remembered that up to this moment 
Lord Beaudevere had been utterly in the dark as to 
what had occurred. 

He knew that his young cousin and heir, Valdimir 
Desparde, had not been at home since the morning of 
the preceding day. He had heard that Mr. Desparde 
had gone away in a boat with Mr. Brandon Coyle to 
the little fishing hamlet of Miston, at the mouth of the 
bay. He had formed his own theories as to the con- 
tinued absence of the young man ; but these theories 
had been proved fallacious by his visit to Caveland. 
Mr. Desparde had spent the night in revelry there, 
at least ; Mr. Brandon had returned thither without his 
companion, and seemed to know so little of his disap- 
pearance that he had gone on with his sister to attend 
the wedding at Castle Montjoie that morning. 

No light was shed upon the mystery as yet, ' 

But this remained : that Mr. Brandon Coyle had been 
the last one seen in company with Mr. Valdimir Des- 
parde before the disappearance of the latter. 


SOME LIGHT ON A DARK SUBJECT. 


71 


Therefore had Lord Beaudevere followed Mr. Bran- 
don Coyle to Montjoie with the faint hope that he might 
possibly find Valdimir Desparde at the castle, or that 
he should hear some satisfactory tidings of him through 
his friend. 

But on his arrival at the castle grounds he found the 
wedding guests departing — at too early an hour for 
such a movement, had all things gone right. 

To a farmer, who' was handing his wife and family 
into a little cart, he put the questions : 

“ Is the wedding over ? Have the bride and groom 
gone ?” 

“ Lord bless your lordship, there 's been no wedding ! 
The bride has been taken ill and can’t get married 
to-day,” replied the man, as he jumped into the wagon 
beside his wife and took the reins. 

“ That's it, then !" exclaimed the baron, starting off 
at a tangent after a new theory. “ She was taken ill 
yesterday, and the earl sent for the betrothed husband, 
and the messenger met him somewhere and brought 
him to the castle, and there was no time to withdraw all 
the wedding- cards.” 

Passing through groups of Lord Altofaire’s tenantry, 
the baron went up to the great hall doors, which stood 
open for the passage of the departing guests. 

Without the ceremony of knocking, therefore, he 
stepped into the hall and gave his card to the porter, 
who called a young footman, and passed it on to him, 
saying ; 

” My master is in the library, my lord. Adams, show 
his lordship to the library.” 

But without waiting for any more circumlocution of 
ceremony, the baron opened the library door and 
admitted himself. 

There he found the aged nobleman leaning on the 


72 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


arm of Brandon Coyle, and pacing slowly up and down 
the floor. 

“ My lord, I am exceedingly grieved to hear of this 
sudden illness of Lady Arielle ! I hope it is nothing 
very serious,” he said, offering his hand to the earl. 

“ It is serious, sir, and I am exceedingly grieved for 
the cause of it !” replied the earl, coldly and bitterly. 

“ I am doubly sorry to hear that. I hope it is nothing 
dangerous to life. Dr. Bennet is in attendance, I pre- 
sume ? An excellent physician, within certain limits. 
But you have telegraphed to London for the best medi- 
cal advice, I hope ?” 

“Can you tell me any news of Mr. Valdimir Desparde, 
sir ?” inquired the earl, ignoring the last question that 
had been put to him. 

“ Mr. Desparde ! Is he not here — near Lady Arielle ?” 
inquired the baron, as his newly-formed theory fell to 
the ground with all its predecessors. 

“ He is not, sir ; nor has he been here to keep his 
appointment.” 

“ Then 1 know nothing about him. I have not seen 
him since yesterday morning. I have been in search 
of him all day — hoped to find him at Caveland, but 
failed ; hoped to find him here, but have failed again. 
Something has happened to the boy. He must have 
been waylaid and murdered !” exclaimed the baron, 
suddenly dropping into a chair — for he could stand no 
longer — although no one asked him to sit down ; no one, 
indeed, had thought of performing this act of courtesy, 
so intently occupied were they all with the one moment- 
ous question of the. hour. 

“ Set your mind at ease on that subject, sir. Noth- 
ing of the sort has happened to Mr. Desparde. Better 
for him, much better, had such been the case, as death 
is better than dishonor !” said the earl. 


SOME LIGHT ON A DARK SUBJECT. 


73 


Dishonor !’ What do you mean, my lord, by using 
this word in connection with Mr. Valdimir Desparde’s 
name ?” demanded the baron, in an agitated voice, 

“ Do you not call it dishonor, then, for a man to 
break his troth and fly the country on the very day 
before his wedding-day ?" 

“ ‘ Break his troth ‘ Fly the country ?' I don’t 
understand ! Do you mean to tell me that Valdimir 
Desparde has gone away ?” inquired the baron, in equal 
perplexity and distress. 

“ I do, and I refer you to Mr. Brandon Coyle here for 
confirmation of my words and for every particular,” 
haughtily replied the earl. 

“ Coyle ! In the name of Heaven, explain this !” 
groaned the baron, drawing his handkerchief from his 
breast-pocket and wiping the heavy drops of perspira- 
tion that had started on his forehead. 

“ Yes, I will. It is very painful ! Lord Altofaire, 
you are exhausting yourself by this walk up and down. 
Had you not better repo.se for awhile "i" suggested 
Coyle, leading the aged nobleman to his resting-chair. 

“ I am exhausting_>'i7^^, my poor boy ! Well, well, I will 
curb my restlessness and spare you further exertion,” 
said the earl, dropping heavily into his easy-chair. 
” Now, sit you down beside Beaudevere, and tell him 
what a viper he has warmed on his hearth ! what an 
atrocious villain he has for his cousin and heir-apparent ! 
Tell him to marry, and have sons and daughters, to 
save the old barony from falling to such infamy !” he 
added, covering his venerable brow with his hands. 

“ Be patient with him,” whispered Brandon Coyle, as 
he seated himself beside the baron. “He scarcely 
knows what he says. He is sorely shaken by this 
heavy blow.” 

“ Will you tell me at once, and without preface, what 


74 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


ground he has for his charges against my relative ?” 
demanded the baron. 

Thus adjured, Brandon Coyle gave a brief account of 
his trip to Miston with Valdimir Desparde, and what 
followed and what did not follow it, mixing truth and 
falsehood in his narrative just as he had done when tell- 
ing the story to Lord Altofaire. 

The baron listened with attention and heard with the 
deepest humiliation. • 

“ I do not understand it," he said — “ I do not under- 
stand it. Valdimir — the boy brought up at my own 
knee ; the child of honorable parents ; a lad I never 
knew to be guilty of a dishonorable act from his youth 
up ; a man who would have died rather than break his 
plighted word — he to break faith with his promised bride 
and fly like a felon from his native land No ! I can- 
not understand it ! If there had been insanity in the 
remotest degree in his family, I should think that he had 
gone suddenly mad. But there never was a case of 
lunacy among all his kindred. The race has been as 
free from madness as from the suspicion of dishonor. 
No ! I cannot understand it, and what is more, I cannot 
believe it !” he added, as the tears of sorrow and 
humiliation rolled down his face. 

The earl looked at his old neighbor with eyes now 
full of sympathy. 

“ Can you not understand and believe," he said, in a 
grave and gentle voice, " that your young cousin is flesh 
and blood, like other young animals ? Can you not 
understand and believe that he may have fallen in love 
with some peasant girl, and so compromised himself 
as to be threatened with an exposure, to escape which 
he has fled the country ? This seems to me the most 
probable explanation of his conduct." 

“ It is not the true one. No red-cross knight in the 


SOME LIGHT ON A DAEK SUBJECT. 


75 


age of saints was ever purer than my Vaklimir !” 
warmly burst forth the baron. “ I cannot believe kim 
guilty ! If he be proved so, I am done with him ! But, 
you have a letter for me, sir. I had forgotten. Let 
me see it now.” 

Brandon Coyle drew the letter from his breast pocket, 
and placed it in the hands of the baron. 

Lord Beaudevere opened it in eager haste, and as he 
read, his brows gathered into a dark frown of the deep- 
est perplexity. 

“ By my life !” he exclaimed, as he concluded the let- 
ter, and stared at it. “ This is more incomprehensible 
to me than all the rest ! Instead of throwing any light 
upon the mystery of his conduct, this letter casts it into 
deeper darkness than ever !” 

The earl, shading his wrinkled forehead with his 
wrinkled hand, gazed on the speaker with anxious, 
inquiring eyes. 

“ There, my lord. You have an equal interest with 
me in this matter. You may read this letter, if you 
wish. Or, stay ! he writes a villainous hand in this note, 
as if he had St. Vitus’s dance in his fingers ! And let 
me preface the reading by assuring you that the con- 
tents of this are as unfathomable a mystery to me as 
those of Eleusia ! I don’t even know what the fellow 
means by addressing me as * my lord,’ instead of ‘ dear 
cousin,’ as usual ! I believe he is a madman, though the 
first that ever appeared in the family.” 

“ Read, read the letter,” urged Lord Altofaire. 

The baron wiped his brow and read as follows, with 
running comments : 

“ ‘ Cloudland, May 31st, 18 — . 

“ ‘ My Lord. — This morning I have discovered the 
secret of my parentage, which has been so long and so 
carefully hidden from me — ’ 


76 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Now what in the deuce does the fellow mean by 
that-? ‘ The secret of his parentage ?’ How can there 
be any secret in his parentage ? He is the son of the 
late Captain Valdimir Desparde, of her majesty’s oooth 
foot, and of his wife Vivienne Beaue, grand-daughter of- 
the thirteenth Baron Beaudevere, and in right of his 
mother, heir-presumptive to the barony. What secret 
is there in that ? Of course the man is mad ! But hear 
the rest : 

— “ ‘ And which I must beg you will still keep hidden 
from the world, for the sake of my dear sister.’ 

“ Now, there ! Now, what in the foul fiend’s name 
does he mean by thatl Why should I keep ‘ the secret 
of his parentage,’ as he calls it, ‘ hidden from the world ?’ 
There was no disgrace in it ! Certainly, there were 
painful circumstances connected with the marriage of 
his parents that made me very much averse to dwell 
upon the subject ; but these circumstances concerned 
myself alone ; certainly not him, nor his sister. Well, 
let us see now : 

— “ ‘ This discovery leaves me, as a man of honor, but 
one course to pursue — to leave the country at once and 
forever !’ 

“There now! Is not that moonstruck madness? 
Why in the demon should he ‘ leave the country and 
leave it forever ?’ I tell you Valdimir Desparde is as 
mad as any maniac in Bedlam ? There isn’t much more, 
but I will read to the end : 

“ ‘ Thanking you most earnestly for all your kindness 
to myself and sister, and praying your continued pro- 
tection to her, I am, my lord, 

“ ‘ Most gratefully and affectionately yours, 

‘Valdimir Desparde.’ 


SOME LIGHT ON A DARK SUBJECT. 


77 


“That letter ought to send him to a lunatic asylum," 
concluded the baron, as he passed it into the hands of 
the earl, who held it in both hands and stared at it in a 
sort of vacuity, 

“ Mr. Brandon Coyle, you tell me that you saw my 
young relative off. You were with him the whole of 
yesterday. Did he give you any hint of what he meant 
by this ‘ secret ’ — this disgrace ?’’ demanded the baron. 

“Not one word, my lord ! I was wholly unsuspicious 
of there being any trouble on my friend’s mind, or any 
intention on his part of leaving the country ! Not un- 
til I opened the sealed packet at noon to-day did I dis- 
cover his flight," replied the young man, with a look of 
sincerity and earnestness that carried a false conviction 
of his truthfulness to the minds of both his hearers. 

“ What shall you do ?” inquired the earl, 

“ Set private detectives at work to trace out his 
course and bring me to speech of him. ' There is some- 
thing wrong ; but not seriously wrong, I feel sure. 
There is some grave misapprehension on his part that 
must be set right. If I can only find him, and get speech 
of him, I will make it all right. In the meantime, my 
dear old friend, let there be no gossip. It is believed 
that the illness of Lady Arielle has alone caused the 
interruption of the marriage. Let that impression re- 
main upon the minds of the people, and there will be 
no scandal. When I find my young relative and bring 
him to his senses, I hope he may be able to make his 
peace with you and with his betrothed bride." 

“ I doubt it," muttered the earl, in a voice too low to 
meet the ears of his visitor. 

“ Now, my lord, I must take my leave and return to 
Cloudland, where I left Vivienne suffering tortures of 
suspense and anxiety ! You may judge, in the four 
hours of my absence how much her sufferings have 


78 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


been augmented ! I shall send over in the morning to 
learn tidings of Lady Arielle’s condition. If there 
should be any news of Valdimir, T will transmit it to 
you. And you, if you should hear anything on the sub- 
ject, will, I am sure, advise me,” said the baron, as he 
arose to bid good-bye. 

“ I will do so ; but I confess I have but small hopes of 
hearing good news," replied the earl, drearily. 

Lord Beaudevere then pressed the hand of his old 
friend, nodded to Brandon Coyle, and left the room. 

“ By the way, my lord,” exclaimed Coyle, stepping 
after him and stopping him. 

“ Well, what more, my young friend ?" demanded his 
lordship. 

“ You are aware that I told you I found three letters 
in the packet intrusted to me ?” 

” Certainly.” 

‘‘ One to Lady Arlelle, which I sent up to her by the 
hands of my sister, one to yourself. Lord Beaudevere, 
and one to Miss Desparde. I had nearly forgotten this 
last one. Will you take it ?” 

“ Yes, certainly,” exclaimed the baron, stepping back 
into the room, “ and open and read it before I leave 
the house. This much is due to Lord Altofaire who 
should be put in possession of all the facts that come to 
light.” 

“ But would you break your relative’s seal, my lord ?” 
inquired Brandon, hesitatingly, as he handed the letter. 

“ Certainly, for Miss Desparde is a minor, and I am 
her guardian, and have the legal and moral right to 
open her letters ; especially in a case of this kind, where 
it is of the utmost importance to discover every circum- 
stance connected with the subject,” replied the baron, 
who, while he spoke, had opened the envelope and 
unfolded the letter, which he read aloud, as follows : 


SOME LIGHT ON A DARK SUBJECT. 


79 


“ Cloudland, May 31st, 18—. 

“My Dearest Vivienne. — Irresistible circumstances 
compel me to leave England, for an indefinite absence. 
I cannot explain these circumstances, nor must you 
seek to understand them ; such knowledge would not be 
profitable to you. Think of me as well as you can, dear 
sister. 

“ Judge your brother by what you have known of him 
all your life. Pray forme daily, as I shall pray for you, 
and be sure that in whatever distant lands I may jour- 
ney, or tarry, I shall always remain 

“ Your faithful, loving brother, Valdimir.” 

“ Not much light to be gained from that epistle,” 
said the baron, folding it carefully, enclosing it neatly 
in its envelope, and depositing it in his pocket. “Yet 
it reads like the letter of an honest and honorable man. 
He asks his sister's prayers for him, and promises his 
prayers for her. Once more good-day, my lord. 
Good-day, Coyle." 

And after this second leave-taking. Lord Beaudevere 
really did depart. 

“ What do you think of all this now, my young 
friend ?” inquired the earl, as soon as he found himself 
alone with Brandon Coyle. 

“ I think, my lord, if you will forive me for saying 
so, that these letters were written merely to throw dust 
in the eyes of others. I believe, my lord, that your 
theory was the right one : that Desparde has got 
entangled in some low amour, and has run away to 
avoid public exposure, "'said Brandon Coyle, solemnly. 

“ Yes, such is my deliberate opinion. Yet I could 
not find it in my heart to press this theory upon 
Beaudevere. I feel deeply for him. My heart bled to 
see him weep. His part of this trouble is so much 


80 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


harder to bear than mine. It is so much bitterer to 
see one’s children come to sin or shame than to see 
them come to sorrow, or even to death ! And he had 
been so proud of Valdimir Desparde, who was even as 
a beloved son to him.” 

Brandon Coyle remained in the library in duteous 
attendance on the Earl of Altofaire until the last of the 
wedding guests were gone, and the house and the 
grounds were deserted. 

The very latest to leave were the two young bride- 
maids, Antonia Deloraine and Net Starr, who came 
softly down the main staircase, dressed in dark suits 
for their long drive, and passed on silently, not daring 
to intrude on the stricken earl, even to bid him good- 
bye. 

Brandon Coyle, glancing through the library window, 
saw them enter their little basket pony chaise and 
drive off. 

Then it occurred to his mind that it might possibly 
be about time for hhn to take leave ; that the afflicted 
old nobleman might perhaps prefer solitude, even to 
his agreeable company. 

So he arose, and running his dark, slender fingers 
through his thick, jet-black curls, said ; 

“ My lord, I will no longer intrude on you, unless I 
can be so lionored as to serve you in some way.” 

“ I thank you, my young friend ; but there is really 
no positive service you can render me. The only 
obligation under which you can place me is negative, 
though very important.” 

“ Name it, my lord,” said Brandon Coyle, deferen- 
tially. 

“ I would request you, then, sir, to favor me by main- 
taining a strict silence regarding the flight of Valdimir 
Desparde. We must prevent public scandal, if possible. 


SOMK LIGHT ON A DARK SUBJECT. 


81 


I think we can. Of all the five hundred guests who 
were here to-day not one knows anything about this 
terrible escapade. Not one suspects that Desparde 
failed to keep his appointment here this morning. They 
all attribute the interruption of the marriage to the sud- 
den illness of the bride, as it was announced to them by 
the family physician, and doubtless they believe Valdi- 
mir Desparde to be in this house at this moment, anx- 
iously awaiting the issues of his betrothed wife’s illness. 
Let them believe what they please for the present. Say 
nothing to change their opinion. You will oblige me in 
this matter ?” 

“ Most assuredly, my lord. I will be silent and I will 
answer for my sister’s silence,” earnestly declared Bran- 
don Coyle. 

“ Thanks. You see, my young friend, there 7nay be — 
I do not say there is likely to be — but there fuay be a way 
out of this trouble that will neither dishonor Desparde 
nor grieve my child ! Beaudevere is persuaded that 
Valdimir is the victim of some tremendous misappre- 
hension. He has gone to London, as you know, to 
employ the best detective skill of Scotland Yard in his 
search, which must be a very private investigation, of 
course. We wait the issue of the search. Therefore I 
must beg you to be discreet.” . 

” I will be \ery discreet, my lord, and I will answer 
for the discretion of my sister, and I hope, if there 
should be any more effective way in which I can be of 
service, that you will let me know.” 

” Thanks. I will do so.” 

“And now, my lord, will you permit one of your ser- 
vants to inform my sister that 1 am waiting for her? 
She is ill Lady Arielle’s apartment, I believe.” 

“Certainly,” said the earl, ringing the little hand-bell 
that stood on the table beside him. “Adams,” he said 


82 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


to the man that immediately appeared at the door, “ go, 
with my respects, to Miss Coyle, and say that Mr. 
Brandon Coyle is ready to attend her. You will find 
Miss Coyle in Lady Arielle's boudoir, I presume.” 

The man bowed and withdrew. 

“ And now, my lord, I will take my leave, and meet 
my sister at the foot of the stairs,” said Brandon Coyle, 
bowing even more deeply and deferentially than the 
man-servant had done. 

The aged earl arose and bent his head as Brandon 
left the room. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

BROTHER AND SISTER. 

Now, who shall tax successful villainy, . 

Or call the rising traitor to account ? 

. Havard. 

Had he mismanaged, he had been a villain ; 

For men judge actions always by events ; 

But when we manage by a just foresight. 

Success is prudence, and possession right. 

Higgons. 

When Brandon Coyle left the library of Lord Alto- 
faire and came out into the hall, he found his sister, 
Aspirita, waiting for him at the foot of the great stair- 
case. 

One expressive look passed between them, and then 
he gave her his arm and led her out to the carriage 
with all the gravity befitting the situation. 

But when he found himself seated by her side, and 
the brougham rolling easily along the solitary road 


BROTHER AND SISTER. 


83 


outside the limits of the park, he gave way to his long 
restrained feelings in one of his horrible hyena laughs 
— throwing his head back and opening his mouth until 
all his strong white teeth were displayed in ghastly 
contrast to his crisply-curling, jet-black beard and mus- 
tache. 

“Well, I laugh at the gullibility of the human race ! 
It is only necessary to be sharp and unscrupulous to do 
whatever you please, and get whatever you want in 
this world ! Behold ! I wished to stop this marriage, 
even on the wedding morning, without appearing to 
have any agency in it, and lo ! the bridegroom expect- 
ant, Valdimir Desparde, is off for the antipodes, and 
the bride elect — the lovely Lady Arielle — is left to 
wear the willow until she and her fortune shall be 
picked up by some fine fellow who may be willing to 
overlook the suspicious circumstances of her abandon- 
ment by her chosen bridegroom at the very altar ! 
And that fine fellow must be only myself, who happen 
to know that she is blameless. But how does Arielle 
take the blow ?” 

“ She lies on her bed unconscious of all around her. 
The Countess of Altofaire is sitting on the right side of 
her bed and Dr. Bennet on the left, watching for the 
slightest change. In the chapel where she was to have 
been married this morning, the priest who was to have 
pronounced the nuptial benediction is kneeling before 
the altar praying for her preservation. Such is the 
state of affairs at Montjoie Castle on the afternoon of 
the day that should have been the gladdest of all the 
days in the year to the family. And meanwhile, Adrian 
Fleming has himself gone to Miston to telegraph for 
Sir Peter Pillberry, the great court phy.sician, to 
come.’' 

“ Aspirita ! You do not mean that she is in serious 


84 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


danger ? If I thought so, I should blow my own brains 
out !” cried Brandon Coyle, growing livid even to his 
lips, for he loved Lady Arielle as much as it was in 
his low and selfish nature to love anyone except him- 
self. 

“ Nonsense ! No ! / don’t believe she is in any 

‘ serious danger !’ But she has had a very great men- 
tal shock, and it will take time for her to recover from 
it ! The countess, 5 "ou know, makes a ridiculous fuss, 
and has a London physician here if Arielle gets a cold 
in her head. She is not in peril.” 

“ Then w/ry did you frighten me so ? She is my very 
life !” 

“ I wanted to stop your horrid laugh. Your laugh 
freezes my blood ! You laugh like a wo//, Brandon !” 

“ Do wolves laugh ?” 

“ I don’t know. But if they do^ they laugh like you. 
Oh, how can you laugh after the last discovery that we 
have made I shall never smile again. 1 know that ! 
Oh, how I wish I had never, never, never searched that 
secret drawer, or found anything else in it except that 
old New Orleans newspaper I gave to you !” exclaimed 
the girl, wringing her hands. 

“ My dear, I am very sorry that you have got to the 
bottom of that old mystery. It will make you very 
unhappy, I am afraid,” said her brother. 

“ It will make me miserable for the rest of my life !” 
she answered. 

” Ah ! I am sorry that you made the discovery ; but I 
am not sorry that those papers were found by us, for if 
we had not found them and destroyed them, some one 
else might have got possession of them, and then there 
would have been a terrible exposure ! However, now 
they are safe enough ! Burned to ashes, every scrap of 
them !” 


BROTHER AND SISTER. 


85 


“ Oh, how could XJncXe Coyle have kept such horrible 
records in existence ? — a very magazine of nitro-glycer- 
ine to blow us all to destruction upon the least touch !” 
exclaimed Aspirita. 

“ He put them in his secret drawer, intending to de- 
stroy them, no doubt, and he forgot to do so. But how 
could any man leave such a legacy to his children as 
that atrocious confession ? That is what staggers me” 
said Coyle. 

“ Oh, Brandon, I don't see how you can take this dis- 
covery so easily as you do ! I bear up before the world, 
but secretly I am bowed to the dust." 

“ Don’t grow morbid over this discovery, Aspirita. 
Give your mind to the imminent necessity of making a 
good marriage. After that is done, you may snap your 
fingers at the world ! I know you have a ‘ sneaking 
kindness ’ — as our transatlantic cousins would say — for 
Valdimir Desparde, who has always cherished a 
brotherly affection for both of us. Follow that up, as a 
woman may ! Send your sisterly regard to him, 
through me. I have his address, and I am commis.sioned 
to write to him, from time to time.” 

“ Oh, I see !" 

“ He will return his. You will exchange messages 
through me. Meanwhile, I shall tell him gradually 
ascending news of Lady Arielle’s health and spirits. 
First she shall be sorry ; after a week or two she shall 
be calm ; after a month or two she shall be very cheer- 
ful ! Quite her own light-hearted, happy self ! Then, 
you see, he will write to me and complain of being so 
soon forgotten by her ; when I shall reply to him by 
reminding him that Lady Arielle was a mere child, who 
could not have known her own mind, or experienced 
any real depth of love. Then he will need sympathy, 
and who so fit to give it to him as you, the ‘ sister of his 


86 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


soul,’ as he used to call you in his boyhood. But mind, 
Aspirita, you must not lose too much time over this 
love-fancy of yours ! If the fellow does not, within a 
reasonable time, implore you to come out to him, you 
must marry the first eligible man that proposes for 
you ! You hear that, do you not ?” 

“ Yes, I hear that,” she replied. 

“ And you are good-looking enough to make a good 
market, Aspirita !” 

“We are both beautiful! I have heard us called so 
frequently in our childhood !” exclaimed Aspirita. 

This conversation had not been consecutively carried 
on between the brother and sister. It had been very 
desultory, with intervals of silence, so that it had taken 
nearly all the time of their drive from Castle Montjoie 
to Caveland. 

As they approached the house Brandon suddenly 
said : 

“ By the way, Aspirita, we must humor those old 
folks up at Castle Montjoie. The people who came to 
the wedding have gone away under the impression that 
the ceremonies were interrupted by the illness of Lady 
Arielle. It is Lord Altofaire’s desire that they shall be 
left in that opinion. And it is my intere.st to be guided 
by Lord Altofaire’s wishes, if I ever expect to find favor 
enough in his eyes to be accepted as the suitor of Lady 
Arielle.” 

“ I see the importance of what you say. Well, I will 
be cautious ! — And in my turn I must warn_>w/ about a 
more serious matter I Do not you drop a word before 
our uncle, to let him suspect that we have — opened his 
secret closet and discovered the skeleton !” 

Oh. never, never I” muttered Brandon, with more than 
usual depth of earnestness. 


BROTHER AND SISTER. 


87 


As the carriage drew up to the door in the tower, a 
footman came out to attend them, saying : 

“ The first dinner-bell has just rung, sir, and my 
master, I believe, expects you.” 

Half an hour later the uncle, nephew and niece met 
at the dinner-table. 

“ Look pale and tired, both of you,” said the old gen- 
tleman, between his spoonfuls of soup. ‘‘ Had a great 
blow out at the castle, of course. And come back played 
out, naturally ! Ah ! I was wise not to go. Happy 
pair gone off in triumph before a shower of old shoes, 
eh ? All right ! Your turns next, my hearties !” 

” There was no wedding at the castle, sir,” coolly 
replied Brandon. “ The bride unhappily was taken very 
ill, and the nuptials were necessarily postponed.” 

” Lor’ bless my soul alive !” cried the old man. 

Well, I hope it is not going to be anything very seri- 
ous— or — or — contagious," added the old man. 

“ I — hope not,” replied Brandon. 

“ You did not happen to hear what were the symp- 
toms ?” inquired old Coyle. 

“ A high fever, with delirium,” answered Brandon, at 
random. 

‘‘Oh ! dear, dear, dear, that is very alarming — very 
alarming indeed I It may be typhus. You must keep 
away from there, young people. And — and — we were 
talking of going to London soon. I think we had bet- 
ter start to-morrow. If this fever has broken out here, 
it will be epidemic and highly dangerous. Yes, we had 
better set off to-morrow,” concluded the old man. 

They both assured their uncle that they would be 
quite ready to depart in the morning, even if they 
should make a point of keeping maid and valet up all 
night packing. 

So it was decided. 


88 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


The whole party left Caveland early the next morn- 
ing to catch the first train for London that stopped at 
Miston, 

When Lord Beandevere returned home on the after- 
noon of that broken wedding-day, he found his ward, 
Vivienne Desparde, nearly wild with suspense and 
anxiety. 

She ran down stairs to meet him in the hall, exclaim- 
ing distractedly ; 

“ Oh, Beaue ! you are here at last ! What has hap- 
pened ? Who is ill ? Who is dead ? I have been 
watching for you from the window for five hours ! Oh, 
speak ! I am nearly crazy ! Answer me, Beaue ! I 
am prepared for anything ! Speak !” 

“ No one is dead and no one seriously ill. Come up 
stairs, my dear, and I will tell you all about it,” replied 
the baron, leading the way to Vivienne’s own sitting- 
room. 

There the baron made his young ward sit down on 
the sofa and seated himself beside her, while he told 
her all that had happened at Montjoie Castle. 

“ The marriage arrested by the flight of Valdimir !” 
exclaimed Vivienne. “ What in this world could have 
been the cause of his flight ?” 

“ I cannot even form a conjecture, unless it is that he 
has been the victim of some delusion or misrepresenta- 
tion, which, if I could get speech with him, I might set 
right,” replied the baron. 

“ And, oh ! w/ia^ do they say at the castle ?” demanded 
Vivienne. 

Lord Beandevere told all that was said by the Mont- 
joie family, as far as he knew it, concluding with : 

” But, my child, I have not yet given you Valdimir’s 
farewell letter to yourself.” 

“ His letter to me ! Oh, give it to me, Beaue ! I did 


BROTHER AND SISTER. 


89 


not know he had written one for me !” exclaimed Vivi- 
enne. 

Vivienne unfolded and read the letter. Immediately 
after finishing the letter she expressed her opinion in 
rather defiant terms, as if challenging contradiction. 

“/have perfect faith in Valdimir, whatever anybody 
else may have !” 

“ So have I, my dear. I shall go to London to-morrow, 
and put the case in the hands of the most skillful pri- 
vate detectives, and no doubt we shall soon be able to 
trace our dear boy, and communicate with him.” 

“ Oh, Heaven grant that we may, Beaue ! I must go 
with you. I cannot bear to stay here in suspense !” 

Thus it happened that the next morning Lord Beau- 
devere, and his ward, attended only by his lordship’s 
valet and the lady’s maid, set out for Miston to catch 
the first train to London. 

Lord Beaudevere and Miss Desparde were shown by 
the guard into a first-class carriage, which they found, 
to their surprise, already occupied by the Coyle part)'. 

Old Coyle received Lord Beaudevere with the utmost 
cordiality, expressing his delight in having his lordship 
and Miss Desparde for travelling companions, and also 
his condolences for the sudden illness of Lady Arielle 
Montjoie, which had so unhappily been the cause of 
postponing the wedding at the castle. 

These words placed Lord Beaudevere in the most 
unpleasant position in which a true man could find him- 
self— between the alternatives of exposing the true 
cause of the interrupted wedding, or of tacitly indorsing 
a false impression. 

But he left the old man to the enjoyment of his own 
opinions, and thereafter discouraged the discussion of 
the subject. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE RIVALS. 

Two ladies on the summit of your mind 
Their stations take to hold discourse of love ; 

Virtue and courtesy adorn the one, 

With modesty and prudence in her train ; 

Beauty and lively elegance the other, 

With every winning grace to do her honor. 

And you, thanks to your sweet and sov’reign lord. 
Enamored of the two, their slave remain. 

Beauty and virtue each address the mind. 

And doubts express if loyal heart can rest 
Between the two in perfect love divided. 

The fountain of true eloquence replies 
Both may be loved — beauty to yield delight, 

And virtue to excite to generous deeds. 

From the Italian of Dante. 

St. Michael's Church at Miston on the Sea, or as it 
is more frequently called, Miston Old Church, had a 
history anterior to the Norman Conquest. 

It was a very rude and ancient structure of dark- 
gray stone, of no special order of architecture,' but of 
heavy, oblong form, with a heavy square tower in 
front. 


[90] 


THE RIVALS. 


91 


The Rev. Luke Starr had been rector of St. Michael’s 
Parish for-more than thirty years. 

He had been twice married. 

His first wife had been the beautiful young widow of 
Arthur, youngest son of Albert Deloraine, Esq., of Del- 
oraine Park, Somersetshire. 

She had been left, by the death of her husband, des- 
titute of everything except the priceless treasure of her 
infant daughter. Antoinette, who was named for her 
grandmother, Mrs. Antoinette Deloraine, of Deloraine 
Park. 

In the third year of her widowhood, when she was 
aged twenty-seven and her little girl five years, she met 
the bachelor rector of Miston Old Church, and after a 
very short acquaintance she became his wife, and took 
up her abode, with her little daughter, at the Miston 
rectory. 

Dr. Starr proved himself a devoted husband to his 
young wife and an affectionate father to his infant step- 
daughter, who, indeed, had known no other father. 

His wife brought him no other children, and all his 
paternal affection was lavished on her little girl, who, 
year by year, seemed to grow dearer to him. 

She was called by his name. Net Starr, and she scarcely 
knew that she had any other. 

After seven years of happy wedded life the union was 
broken by the angel of death. 

Mrs. Starr took a fever that was epidemic m the vil- 
lage, and she passed away, leaving her little daughter 
Net, then a girl of eleven years, to the care of her step- 
father. 

And well the widower fulfilled the trust, providing 
the most amiable and accomplished young governess 
that could be found, to take charge of the growing girl. 
“One not too much older than Net, to sympathize with 


92 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


her, to be a companion for her,” he explained to the 
ladies of his congregation, who thought Miss Ella Wood 
too youthful for so grave a charge. 

But Ella — a pretty, delicate, fair-haired orphan girl — 
without any planning of her own, (for she was too inno- 
cent to plan,) but by the influence of her native loveli- 
ness, won her way not only into the affections of her 
young charge, but into those of her elderly patron ; so 
that about eighteen months after the decease of the 
firsts little Ella Wood became the second Mrs. Starr. 

But, ah ! the rector’s happiness was very short-lived. 
It was just ten months after the wedding-day that Ella 
Starr went to Heaven, leaving twin babies, a boy and a 
girl, to be cared for by the widower and his little step- 
daughter. 

Thus, at the early age of fourteen years. Nett Starr 
found herself in the responsible position of housekeeper 
for her step-father, mistress of the rectory, and foster- 
mother to the motherless Luke and Ella, which the 
babes were respectively christened. 

And the children thrived well under the care of their 
little foster-mother, whose love for them “ grew with 
their strength.” 

As a baby’s first cry is “ mam-mam,” and Net always 
responded to this cry with cherishing love, the infants 
called their little foster-mother “ mammy,” as if she had 
been indeed their mother. 

The rector had but a small income of a hundred 
pounds per annum, and the rectory had but one servant, 
an elderly widow of the name of Kenn. 

She had been in the rector’s family many years. 
She had been housekeeper and cook before the advent 
of his first wife, and she had continued in his service 
ever since. 

No woman in Miston had so large a family of her 


THK RIVALS. 


93 


own as Mrs. Kenn, but her family consisted of grown- 
up and married sons and daughters with many children. 

But it was when the babies were about eighteen 
months old, that Mrs. Kenn introduced her eldest grand- 
daughter, Christobel, into the service of the rectory. 

“I have brought Kit o’ Jim to help me a bit i’ the 
kitchen the day, Mistress Net, if yo dunnot mind,” said 
the woman, one morning, as the young mistress of the 
rectory entered the cook’s domain to give an order 
about dinner. ” I hope yo dunnot mind, Mistress Net.” 

“ No, of course, I do not mind ; but who did you say 
she was ?” gently inquired the young girl. 

‘‘ Kit o’ Jim, Mistress. Yo know Jim. He’s kept 
the house in fish this many a year.” 

“Oh, yes, your son James Kenn, the fisherman, and 
this is his daughter. How do you do, Kitty .? I hope 
you are very well.” 

“ Thank yo, mom. I’m foinely. Hoo do yo doe 
yoself ?” exclaimed the girl, taking her hands out of 
the hot water, seizing each side of her gown, and 
dropping a quick succession of courtesies, while her 
great blue eyes rolled wildly around, as if to shirk 
looking the young lady directly in the face. 

So that same day Kit o’ Jim was engaged as house- 
maid at the rectory, to the great delight of the grand- 
mother and granddaughter. 

Net undertook to initiate the young savage into the 
duties of her situation, the mystery of sweeping without 
raising a great dust, and dusting without knocking 
knickknackeries about, and so on, and so on. 

But Kit o’ Jim was at once a study, a trial and an 
amusement to her young mistress. 

Net could not scold. She could not even bear to 
rebuke ; but whenever the grandmother discovered 
antic tricks in her granddaughter she would say ; 


94 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“Ah, Mistress Net! Nobbutty but yoself wod put 
up wud her. That was the reason why I wonted to get 
her here wud yo. She is a monkey, Mistress Net ! 
She has been a monkey from her buth !” 

Sometimes when Net would leave her to clean the 
up-stairs room in a given time, and after waiting twice 
the length of that time, would go up, she would find the 
room undisturbed, the work undone, and Kit o’ Jim 
leaning on her folded red arms out on the window-sill, 
staring with her large blue eyes out over land and 
water like one in a trance. 

“ Kit !" 

The girl would start at the voice of her young mis- 
tress, and come slowly to her senses like one waking 
from a dream. 

“ What are you doing there, Kit ?’’ 

“ Nothing.” 

“ What were you thinking of ?” 

“ I dunnot know. How do I ? Mabby o’ the sea and 
sky and trees and clouds, and o’' Him as made ’em. 
But I dunnot know. I wur in a maze loike.” 

“ Why haven’t you done the room ?” 

“ I dunnot know. I wur in a maze. I dunnot know.” 

And really she did not know, for she was the soul of 
truth, and spoke her thoughts with dangerous open- 
ness. 

Kit o’ Jim developed another trait of character not so 
harmless as the disposition to dress herself and the 
children in harlequin style, nor so safe as the indul- 
gence of reveries over the beauties of a summer morning. 
It was a susceptibility to the attractions of the natural 
enemy. 

And she was as strangely outspoken on this subject 
as on all others. 


THE RIVALS. 


95 


Among" the frequent visitors at the rectory were 
Brandon and Aspirita Coyle. 

On tlie first occasion of their taking tea there, after 
the advent of Kit, it fell to the girl’s lot to wait at 
table. 

In the merry chat of the three young people, and 
the thoughtful abstraction of the rector, no one noticed 
the behavior of the little waiting-maid who stood there, 
silver plate in hand, to pass the cups, but staring with 
open-eyed, innocent admiration at the very handsome 
person of Brandon Coyle. 

But when the company had gone home, and Kit was 
up stairs in the nursery helping her young mistress to 
put the babies to bed, the girl suddenly burst forth 
with : 

“ Oh, Mistress Net, beant he just lovely V' 

“ Yes, indeed. Kit, he is a precious angel !” cordially 
replied Net, who thought that her hand-maid was talk- 
ing about the baby boy she was engaged in disrobing. 

“ And wot a bee-ootiful black beard he’s got. Mistress 
Net !” 

“ ‘ Beard ?’ ” said the young lady, with a puzzled look. 

“ Oh, yes, mom ! The loveliest beard, black as jet, 
and curly as — as — as curly ! Be he yo sweet’art, Mis- 
tress Net ?” she inquired with unction. 

“ ‘ Sweetheart ?’ What nonsense ! What are you 
talking about, you incomprehensible Missing Link ?” 

“ I’m a talking about him^ Mistress Net ! Thot lovely, 
bee-ootiful young man wot smiled at me so heavenly 
when I guv him the cup o’ tea ! Oh, so dif’rent from 
the fisher lads ! Don’t yo love him dearly. Mistress 
Net ?” warmly inquired Kit, rubbing her hands in her 
earnestness. 

“Love hivil No ! I don’t even like him ! I have 
not even got Christian charity for him. I’m afraid.’’ 


9C THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 

“ Well, then, and I just think as how you be a very 
wicked one. Mistress Net, not to love such a bee-ootiful 
young man, with such a heavenly, black, curly beard !” 
exclaimed Kit, with ardent indignation. 

“ Oh, you idiotic monkey ! Look at the baby in your 
arms trying to attract your attention with his pretty 
ways ! Look at him and love him, and don’t waste 
your enthusiasm on a conceited fellow like 'Brandon 
Coyle ! And as to being beautiful, he is not even good- 
looking, you monkey ! Why, his skin is as brown as 
a hazel-nut, and his hair and eyes are as black as jet !” 

“ Sure, Mistress Net, and yo needn’t be talkin’ agan 
black harr ! Yo’s is black enough,” 

/‘Mine? Oh, I’m a girl! It don’t matter ; but I don’t 
admire dark hair at all ; I like your colored hair much 
better. Your hair is beautiful hair, if you would only 
keep it in order.” 

” My harr !” exclaimed Kit, in pleased .surprise, as she 
drew a long, shining tress between her fingers. ‘‘ Why, 
viy harr ? They calls it carrots aX whoam ! And I think 
it be horrid ! But yo’s and Master Brandon’s be just 
bee-ootiful I” 

By this little conversation it may seem that there was, 
perhaps, a little too much familiarity between the little 
mistress and her maid ; but Net Starr was tender-hearted 
to weakness, and could not rebuke the rbugh freedom 
of her uncultivated little servant. 

After seeing the babies to bed, and watching them to 
sleep. Net went down, with her work-basket in her 
hand, to sit and sew beside her step-father in his study. 

It was about this time that an event occurred that was 
destined to have a great effect upon the future life of 
Net Starr. 

One evening Net had put her babies to bed, as usual, 
and had taken her needle-work down into her step- 


THE RIVALS. 


97 


father’s study to sit and sew while he read or wrote ; 
but on this occasion she found him reading a letter, 
which he finished and folded in its envelope and put 
away before he spoke. 

Then he said : 

“ Net, my dear, I have had a proposition upon which I 
must consult you,” 

“ Very well, dear father,” answered the little hou.se- 
keeper, wondering what it could be. 

“ This letter is from General Sir Adrian Fleming, an 
old classmate and friend of mine, whom I have not 
seen for many years. He has been in India. He 
writes to ask me to receive into my home his son and 
heir, young Adrian Fleming, as a pupil to be prepared 
for the University of Oxford, Sir Adrian represents 
his son to be a youth twenty years of age, rather back; 
ward in his studies, but of excellent moral character, 
and regularly good habits. He begs me as a favor to 
receive him, and offers me at least a hundred pounds 
per annum, and more if I require it. There ! Those, 
are the contents of the letter you saw me reading. 
Now, what do you say, my dear > Shall we take this 
young man ?” said the old gentleman, appealing to his 
youthful step-daughter as if she had been a mature and 
experienced woman. 

Net looked in his face and tried to read his thoughts, 
and saw in the half-suppressed eagerness of his coun- 
tenance what she supposed to be his real desires. 
Still she was not quite sure, so she inquired : 

“ What do you think yourself, father, dear?” 

“ Well, my child, his coming would just double my 
income, and give me very little trouble, if any at all. 
It would, on the contrary, give me congenial occupa- 
tion and amusement.” 

“ Then, father, take him by all means,” replied Net. 


98 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ But you, my child ? His presence might incommode 
and harass you. And your convenience and satisfac- 
tion must be thought of before anything else, my 
dear,” said the rector, laying his long, delicate white 
hand on his step-daughter’s little, dark-haired head. 

“Oh ! father, dearest, you think of me far too much. 
But indeed I would like you to have a pupil ; he would 
be company in the house, and I would very much like 
you to have your income doubled. We could do so 
much more for the poor. You could get a good new 
horse, for poor old Joe is too old to carry you much 
longer. And we would have a basket pony chaise to 
take the babies out. Oh I yes, father dear, let the 
young man come.” 

” It is settled, then. He shall come,” said the rector. 

And the same evening the letter of acceptance was 
written and mailed to the baronet, and both the old 
man and his step-daughter indulged in dreams of well- 
earned prosperity. 

The next week, on a fine June morning, young Adrian 
Fleming arrived at Miston by the early train from Lon- 
don, in time to breakfast with the rector and his 
daughter. 

The new pupil, though no more than twenty years of 
age, was tall and well proportioned in form, with a 
well-shaped, stately head, covered with waving yellow 
hair, pure Grecian features, with the straight forehead, 
straight nose, short upper lip and curved chin that 
belong to that type, a very fair, roseate complexion, 
dark purple' eyes and a short mustache, a shade darker 
than his hair. 

In a word, he was a blonde Adonis, who had been 
celebrated for his beauty from his childhood- up. 

Ah ! poor, little dark-haired, pale-faced Net ! It 
would need no prophet to predict her fate. 


THE RIVALS. 


99 


Adrian Fleming was no scheming villain. He was 
too young to be a villain. Besides he had come of too 
good a stock ; but he had been the spoiled and petted 
‘‘ curled darling ” of his grandmother and mother, aunts, 
sisters and cousins, and all their young female friends. 
He was as used to adulation, and as fond of it, as the 
vainest coquette that ever wasted her youth in trifling 
with men’s affections. 

In less than a month after his arrival at the rectory 
he had made love to the rector’s daughter, merely 
because she was the only young lady within his reach. 
In less than another month he had won her whole 
heart and lost a little of his own besides. And Net 
perceived that he already did love her, and she was 
happy beyond words to express. 

“ What can he see in me to like ?” she asked herself. 
“ He, with his almost angelic beauty, his accomplish- 
ments, and his rank — what can he see in me to like ?” 

He had never asked Net to marry him, but she 
never for a moment doubted that he would do so 
when the proper time .should come. 

And Net lived in blissful hallucinations until 
another event occurred to open her eyes. 

“It never rains but it pours,” says a household prov- 
erb. The rector and his step-daughter had lived 
three years alone, from the time of the death of poor 
little Ella until the arrival of Adrian Fleming ; but in 
the fourth month of this young man’s residence at the 
rectory they had another inmate forced by circum- 
stances upon them. 

The Rev. Dr. Starr had a young female ward, of 
whom he had' seldom thought, because she did not 
require his care. All he had to do was to foot the bills 
that were sent to him semi-annually from the French 
school at which she was receiving her education. 


100 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


This young lady was Antoinette Deloraine, the heir- 
ess of Deloraine Park. She Was really the cousin and 
namesake of Antoinette Deloraine of the rectory, who 
was commonly called Net Starr, and she was about a 
year older than Net. 

Now, in the autumn following the arrival of Adrian 
Fleming at the parsonage. Dr. Starr received a letter 
from Madame de la Tour, the principal of the school 
at which Miss Deloraine had been placed, inclosing the 
bills for the last half year and also the information 
that as Mademoiselle Antoinette had graduated with 
honors, and the school was about to be discontinued, it 
would be agreeable if Monsieur would come, or send 
some person, to take charge of Mademoiselle. 

Dr. Starr went himself, paid all the bills from 
her ample fortune, and brought Antoinette Delo- 
raine to his own house, there to abide until her 
majority'or her own marriage. 

At first the young lady did not like her country 
quarters at all ; but when she found in the blonde Ado- 
nis, Adrian Fleming, a companion congenial to her 
tastes, she became quite contented. 

I said that Antoinette was about one year older than 
Net, but the cousins were wonderfully alike in height, 
size, form and face. They both had inherited the Del- 
oraine figure and the Deloraine face, with the Deloraine 
name. There the similarity ceased, for Antoinette pos- 
sessed the brilliant color and sparkling blue eyes of her 
Scotch mother, and Net the clear, pale complexion and 
dark-gray eyes of her American parent. 

I have now brought this retrospect down to the 
period of the commencement of this story, when Adrian 
Fleming was playing fast and loose with the affections 
of the “ rectory girls,” and Net Starr’s heart was well- 
high broken, while her rival’s vanity was triumphant, 



CHAPTER X. 

IN THE MISTON RECTORY. 

‘ Her bosom is the pure retreat 
For purest love alone; 

As yet her heart has never beat 
Passion’s delirious tone. 

Love dwells within its circle free 
From fiery thoughts like these, 

Nursed like a little deity, 

As blossoms nursed by breeze. 

Before it throws its leaves apart 
And kindles in the sun-touched heart.” 

On the afternoon of the broken wedding-da5^ when 
the two bride-maids, that never officiated as such, 
returned to their rectory home, the rector rode up to 
the vine shaded porch of the rectory on his old white 
cob. 

Net stopped to wait for him. 

He dismounted and gave the bridle to the garden -boy 
who came up to lead the horse away, and then walked 
into the porch and greeted his step-daughter as if she 
had been away two years instead of twenty-four hours. 

" I missed you so much in the house, my dear, that I 
went out to make a large round of parish visits and I 
have just heard in the village the sad news that the 

[lOl] 


102 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


wedding which was to have been celebrated at Montjoie 
Castle this morning has been interrupted by the sudden 
and dangerous illness of the bride. I am very sorry. 
How did you leave her ?” 

“ She was in a stupor when I came away,” answered 
Net. 

“ Dreadful ! Typhus fever, no doubt ! The old 
scourge of the neighborhood ! Had they telegraphed 
for a London physician ?” 

“ Oh, yes ; Adrian Fleming himself came down to 
Miston to send the message, so as to make sure of its 
going,” said Net, as she followed her step-father into 
the hall, and letting go the children’s hands that she 
might take his hat and gloves and put them away for 
him. 

“ Well, with youth, a good constitution, the best med- 
ical skill, and the best nursing, there need be nothing 
to fear for Lady Arielle, even in typhus fever. It is 
only a pity on account of the interrupted wedding,” said 
the doctor, as he passed into his study and closed the 
door. 

Net took her children up into the nursery to give 
them their bread and milk and put them to bed. 

As Net entered the room she saw the “ Missing Link,” 
as Net humorously dubbed the eccentric Kit, leaning out 
of the open window, with her elbows on the sill, and her 
chin on the palms of her hands, gazing out over the 
waters that were now all aflame with the “ after glow” 
of a magnificent sunset. 

“ What are you doing there, Kit?” inquired Net. 

” A thinking on my thorts, Mistress,” replied the 
strange creature, without changing her position. 

“ And what are they, Kit ?” pursued the young lady. 

“ I dunnot know. How do T ? A many things I'm 
thinking on.” 


IN THE MISTON EECTORY. 


103 


Net Starr was no martinet. It was said of her that 
she would spoil the best servant by indulgence. Every 
one has some fault. This weakness was Net’s. 

She left her dreaming servant to her “ thorts,” and 
turned to where a little, low table stood in the middle 
of the floor, covered with a white cloth, provided with 
- two bowls of bread and milk, and flanked by two little 
chairs. 

She sat her babies in these chairs, tied napkins under 
their chins, gave them spoons, and watched them while 
they ate. 

“ Mistress Net!” suddenly exclaimed Kit. 

“ Well, what is the matter ?" inquired the little mam- 
mam from her lowly position. 

“ Thet Mr. Adrian Fleming be a wicked deceiver !” 

“ Kit I” exclaimed the astonished little woman. “ You 
must not say such things.” 

“ I WILL say them, then ! Thet Mr. Adrian Fleming 
be a wicked deceiver — him be ! Come and look for 
yoself now !” 

Involuntarily — quite involuntarily, for if she had 
stopped to think for an instant. Net would have shrunk 
from doing such a thing — little mammam left her 
children and sprang to look out of the window at which 
Kit was standing. And from it she saw this picture : 

Adrian Fleiiiing and Antoinette Deloraine, arm in 
arm, gliding in and out, now in sight, now out of sight, 
among the thick shrubbery. That was not much, per- 
haps, but, as they turned. Net saw that his right arm 
was around her waist, his head bent down towards hers, 
which was resting on his shoulder, while she gazed up 
in his eyes with all her soul in hers. 

Net turned sick and faint as she left the window, 
dropped into the nearest chair, and supported her faint- 
ing head on her hand. 


104 : 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Now you see for yoself, Mistress Net, wot a wicked 
deceiver him be,” said Kit o’ Jim. 

” Come away from the window, Kit. It is wrong to 
watch people when they don’t know that you are look- 
ing at them,” said Net, as soon as she could speak. 

“Wot aggrawates me is, as him don’t care for ur no 
more’n nothink at all ! Him don’t care nothink about 
ur ! And there him be a looking at ur as if him wanted 
to eat ur up, wen him don’t want a mossil on ur ! It’s 
you. Mistress Net, wot him do hanker after ! Lor, / 
know ! Ur needn’t turn up ur eyes like a dying duck 
to he ! Ur ’ll only get deceit for ur pains !” 

“ Kit, you shall not speak so of ladies and gentle- 
men !” exclaimed Net, making a futile effort at 
authority. 

“ Leddies and gentium shod behave as sich, or I’ll 
spek my mind o’ thim, yo ’ll see 1” said the incorrigible 
“ Missing Link.” 

“ Come and help me to wash the children and put 
them to bed — they have done their supper now !” said 
Net as a last inducement to Kit to leave her post at the 
window. 

So adjured. Kit came and took possession of little 
Luke and proceeded to strip him, as her share of the 
work. 

And in a very short time the children were washed, 
put in their clean night-dresses, and put to bed. 

The room was set in order and Kit took the little 
table service down stairs. 

But mammam stayed with the babies, telling them 
stories, singing them songs, and answering questions 
until they went to sleep. 

Then she left the taper burning and went down stairs, 
to preside at the tea table. 

Net had had no time from her duties to change her 


IN THE MISTON RECTORY, 


105 


travelling-dress of brown serge, with white linen collar 
and cuffs, for a lighter dress more befitting the season 
and more becoming to herself ; so, when she took her 
place at the head of the rector’s table, she presented a 
marked contrast to her radiant cousin, who was bloom- 
ing in a diaphanous blue organdie muslin, with a white 
lace fichue, crossed over her bosom and fastened with a 
bunch of blush-roses. Net was Jenny Wren to a bird 
of paradise. 

“ No wonder Adrian admires Antoinette. Every one 
must admire her. She is so beautiful !” sighed Net, 
with some sorrow, but with not a whit of envy. 

Adrian’s attentions to Miss Deloraine were so undis- 
guised and open as to attract the notice of even such 
an absent-minded and unsuspicious spectator as Dr. 
Starr himself, who, after glancing at the pair over his 
spectacles two or three times and “humphing” to him- 
self, began to say mentally : 

“ Well, I suppose no harm can be done. The heiress 
of Deloraine Park must be a very acceptable daughter- 
in-law to Sir Adrian and Lady Fleming ! As for 
Antoinette, she has no one to consult but herself — and 
me. I think I will let things take their course,” 

And he did. But ah ! he little thought how deeply 
involved was the happiness of his darling Net, in his 
thus letting things take their course ! 

A very fiend of vanity and perversity seemed to have 
taken possession of Adrian Fleming. He knew how he 
was torturing the poor little heart' that he had, only a 
few months before, taken so much pains to win and now 
held in a bond of iron, yet, instead of desisting in his 
course, he seemed to take delight in it and in the pain 
it gave to Net, 

And Antoinette did all in her power to fascinate and 
encourage this handsome admirer. 


106 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


But let US be just to the girl, coquet though she was. 
She was not willfully cruel — she did not know, or even 
suspect, that Adrian Fleming had ever been Net’s lover. 
However should she have imagined such a circum- 
stance, when, on the very first day of her appearance at 
the rectory, Adrian Fleming seemed to have fallen in 
love with her — Antoinette Deloraine — at first sight, and 
to have sunk deeper and deeper in that pit of bathos 
ever since. 

Besides, though she liked the attentions and enjoyed 
the society of this very handsome and fascinating 
youth, she certainly had not the remotest idea of ac- 
cepting his hand in marriage, should he ever offer it 
to her. 

Adrian Fleming was handsome, accomplished, fascin- 
ating, wealthy, and the heir to a baronetcy — all very 
well, so far as it went ; but she was beautiful, accom- 
plished, wealthy, and the heiress of Deloraine Park, 
and she had her little secret ambitions, as well as her 
little open vanities. The heir of the baronetcy, with 
all his other attractions, was good enough for a flirta- 
tion in a dull country parsonage, but she wanted a 
duke for serious marriage. She would have preferred 
a prince, but seemed to know that princes were only 
to be won by princesses, while many an untitled heiress 
had won a duke. Such was Antoinette Deloraine’s 
real thought all the time she seemed to be making a 
fool of young Fleming. T say “ seemed," for she was 
not actually. His devotion to her was given less from 
admiration of her beauty than from pique with Net. 
Simple, pure-hearted, pure-mannered Net, had kept 
her impetuous young lover at a certain discreet dis- 
tance, which while it truly won his respect for the 
girl, also kindled his anger against her. 

“ She was squeamish, prudish, freezing— she would 


IN THE MISTON KECTORY. 


107 


not let him put his arm around her waist or press his 
lips to hers, much as he loved her ? Oh, very well, 
then, he would show her that there were others quite as 
handsome and attractive as herself, who would not be 
so cold !” he said within his heart ; and so, with boyish 
pride and petulance, he devoted himself to Miss Delo- 
raine, and delighted in the pain that he was inflicting 
upon Net. 

More than once his arm had encircled Antoinette’s 
dainty waist, as it had done on that afternoon in the 
shrubbery when Net saw them from the nursery win- 
dow. More than once he had pressed his lips to hers. 

Antoinette was very beautiful, very winning, very 
sweet ; but she was not Net, after all ! Oh, he thought 
if he could only once talce Net in his arms and kiss 
her ! But Net would not let him do this ! Little, pale, 
plain Net was not nearly so responsive to his affection 
as this radiant, blooming Antoinette, and so he almost 
fancied he half hated Net. 

Thus you see that this flirtation between Adrian 
Fleming and Antoinette Deloraine, which was break- 
ing Net’s heart, was after all only an affair of pique, 
vanity, and mutual deception. 

Yet every looker-on believed this to be a genuine 
courtship, except one. 

The rector believed it, and rejoiced in it. 

Net believed it, and broke her heart over it. 

Old Mrs Kenn believed it, and shook her head over it. 

But Kit o’ Jim did not believe it at all ! Through 
some instinct not even understood by herself, she saw 
through the whole farce and bitterly resented it, be- 
cause it was breaking the heart of her beloved mistress. 

“ I wunnot stend it a many days longer,” said the 
Missing Link to herself, on one occasion, when she had 
discovered her mistress weeping alone, and had stolen 


108 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


away quietly, without having been discovered in her 
turn. “ I wunnot stend it many days longer. I’ll spek 
my mind to ’un — ■! wull !” 

Others noticed Net’s misery also. 

Dr. Starr saw how pallid and emaciated she had be- 
come, and said to himself : 

“ Poor little girl ! she is overburdened with toil and 
care. She has had a woman’s duties laid upon her 
young life ever since she was ten years old. And now 
they are augmented by the presence of this young 
lady and gentleman in the house, making her domestic 
cares so much greater. However, thank Heaven, the 
young fellow is to go to Oxford next term, so we shall 
be rid of him. And I must find some lady of her own 
rank to take charge of Antoinette Deloraine and intro- 
duce her properly into society. The girl is tired of our 
quiet home even now, and she will not be able to bear 
it after Adrian is gone. They will both go, I suppose, 
and then my child shall have rest.” 

The babies, in the seclusion of the nursery, at early 
morn or late eve, saw their mammam’s eyes full of 
tears, or red with recent weeping, and would come to 
her, with the ready, tender sympathy of infants, and, 
one on one side and one on the other, would put up 
their lips like little twin cherries to kiss her, or open 
them to ask questions. 

• “ Wot kyin’ for, mammam ?” from little Luke. 

“ ’Es — wot kyin’ for, mammam ?” from his echo. 

Silent caresses would be their only answer. 

“ Don't ky. I ’ove oo.” 

“ I ’ove oo too.” 

This amid the warmest infantile kisses. 

Net’s heart was wounded and bleeding, and this inno- 
cent sympathy was the most precious balm it could re- 
ceive. 


IN THE MISTON RECTORY. 


109 


“ Oh, why should I be so vveak and foolish as to let 
myself die for a man who has ceased to care for me, 
when I have such precious, precious cherubs who give 
me love for love a hundred-fold — warm, innocent, faith- 
ful love a hundred-fold ! I ought to live for them — I 
ought to live for them ! But I cannot ! I cannot ! 
Heart and frame are failing, and every caress and 
every glance he gives to her is another stab, another 
blow, leaving me weaker and lower than before ! What 
ails me ? Oh, I used to think that I was not bad, but I 
w^/s/ be — bad, jealous, envious — or I should be willing to 
let Adrian be happy in his own way — be willing to give 
him up to Antoinette ! But I am not willing ! Oh, I 
am not willing ! I would rather die than do that ! It 
is because I am selfish — ^a<// If I were really loving 
and really good I should rejoice in their happiness — 
not mourn over it, not die for it ! Ah, it is true — ‘ The 
sorrow of this world worketh death !’ Oh, Saviour, 
Thou canst change all this in my heart ! Give me the 
‘ godly sorrow that worketh repentance unto salvation !’ 
Give me power to rise out of my selfishness, self-torture, 
self-pity, into love and faith !” 

So prayed and strove the poor child, in the struggle 
between the passion of her soul and the aspiration of 
her spirit. 

“ Oh, my darlings, come to my bosom ! The angels 
are with you, and they are with me too when I have 
^mu near me,” she would often say to the babies, as she 
held out her arms to receive them ; and they, under- 
standing a sorrow in her words, “if not the words,” 
would come to her with innocent, warm sympathy. 

Net now spent all the time that she could spare from 
other domestic duties in the company of the children, . 
either in the nursery, in her own .sitting-room, or in the 
shady grounds around the rectory. 


110 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Dr. Starr would spend his mornings reading in his 
study, with his pupil, or writing his sermons while his 
pupil read. 

In the afternoon he would take a nap, and then mount 
his white cob and ride his round of pastoral calls. 

Antoinette Deloraine would devote her morning 
hours to reading, and her afternoon to flirtation. 

Adrian Fleming would give his mornings to his stud- 
ies, and his afternoons to strolling through the grounds, 
or boating on the water with Antoinette. 

The short summer evenings — when it was too warm 
to light the lamps, and when the babies were asleep in 
the nursery, and the two servants were off for a stroll 
to some neighbor’s house — would find the rector and 
his three young people assembled after their tea in the 
vine-covered porch of the house, where there was in 
truth but little conversation, until Mr. Fleming and Miss 
Deloraine would rise as by mutual consent and stroll 
away through the grounds, under the starlight or moon- 
light, as it might happen. 

Then the rector would say : 

“You are not well, my child. You grow thinner and 
paler day by day. You must have Bennet in to see you,” 
or words of the same import. 

And Net would answer : 

“ Not yet, father, dear. Wait a little. I think I shall 
be better by and by,” or something to the same effect. 

“ You are overburdened with family cares. But 
when our guests are gone, I will get some one to take 
my place, and I will take you and your babies to the 
Highlands for a holiday,” and so on, and so on. 

That was the way with the rector. He never seemed 
to claim immediate proprietorship in his own children. 
He was, perhaps, too old, and they too young. His 
step-daughter seemed to be hxsreal child, and the babes 


IN THE 5IISTON RECTORY. 


Ill 


to be her children and his grandchildren. He always 
felt that in showing any affection to little Luke and 
Ella, he was conferring a favor on Net. 

But affairs at the rectory approached a crisis. 

Net grew thinner, paler, weaker, and more silent, 
stupid and uninteresting every day. 

Antoinette Deloraine more blooming, radiant, and 
attractive. 

The flirtation between Mr. Fleming and Miss Delo- 
raine begun in pique on one side and vanity on the other, 
gradually became a serious matter, to the young man at 
least. “ The moth and the flame ” may be a very poet- 
ical illustration of his situation, but it is unbearably 
stale, and not for a moment to be endured by the mod- 
ern reader. 

It is sufficient to say, this infatuated youth sunned 
himself in the bright presence of the dangerous beauty 
until he became inflamed with a passion which it would 
be desecration to call love, but which grew more ardent 
and ungovernable with every permitted care'ss. 

And all this time, half smothered, but living in his 
heart, was his pure affection for Net. Sometimes, 
even in the midst of the demon-kindled fires of his 
present passion, he woiuld feel some relenting sympathy 
for Net, and make some friendly advances towards her. 

But Net, believing in pure mutual love existing be- 
tween him and her cousin, and acting upon her new 
and most conscientious resolution to give him up en- 
tirely and unselfishly to Antoinette, gently avoided, or 
when need was, firmly repelled these overtures, until 
in his wounded vanity he left her to herself, and de- 
voted all his time and attention to her rival. 

Net had taken up a cross too heavy for her to bear. 
She was sinking under it every hour. 

Even the vain, frivolous, self-occupied Antoinette at 
last noticed the illness of the girl. 


112 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ I wonder what is the matter with Netty ? I feel 
really, really uneasy about her. She seems to me to 
be going into a galloping consumption. I do wonder 
what can be the matter with her,” she said one day, 
when Net had taken the children and left the nursery, 
where Antoinette was idling and the Missing Link was 
putting away the children’s clean clothes in an old- 
fashioned press. 

Antoinette had spoken, as it were to herself, or to the 
world at large, certainly not to Kit o’ Jim, who, how- 
ever, took it upon herself to answer. Now was her op- 
portunity. She hastened to embrace it. 

“Oh, yo do, do yo ? Yo wunder wot’s the 
matter wi’ the mistress !” she exclaimed, whirling 
around and putting her fine arms akimbo. “Yo 
wunder wot’s the matter with mistress ? I’ll tell yo ! 
It’s just this ! Yo and him be just a breaking on ur ’art ! 
wot’s the matter !” 

“ What do you mean ?” quietly demanded Miss Del- 
oraine. 

“ Glad yo ast me !” answered Kit, her fine blue eyes 
blazing with wrath. “ I'll tell yo ! Them was sweet- 
’arts afore kem to spoil it a’ ! Sweet sweet’arts as 
ever yo see in a long summer, tilly^? kem and tuk him 
away from ur ! And a dunned fule wur him to be tuk 
by yo ! Thet he be ! ' Why, yo be no more to compare 
to ur then a paper rose wot they string for may-pole to 
a live violet, no more yo aint ! There’s nothink inside 
o’ yo ! Yo ’re all outside, like a boy’s balloon !” 

Antoinette sat down and looked at the Missing Link 
in silence, dumbfounded, but so far from feeling angry 
that she was thinking what a very handsome creature 
this young savage was, with her splendid physique, her 
oval cheeks glowing, her blue eyes blazing, her golden 
red hair actually bristling and scintillating with the 
moral indignation that overmastered her. 


IN THE MISTON BECTORT. 


113 


‘ Yo ’re killing on ur — yo an‘ him ! The winter 
snows will fall on ur grave in yon churchyod, yo ’ll 
see ? An’ the bairns will be left orphins, an’ wuss ! An’ 
all along o’ yo and him ! An’ little yo care ! Yo see 
it all a coming along as fast as it ken come, and little 
yo care ! An’ the old mon an’ the bairns will be left 
widows and orphins ! And little yo ’ll care ! But it 
wull kem home to yo ! Mind thet ! It will kem home 
to yo !” 

Now, it was much to Antoinette’s credit that no 
anger was excited in her bosom by this abusive tirade ; 
but her eyes had been rudely opened, and her con- 
science aroused. 

“ Is it possible that this could have been so — that 
they could have been lovers ?” she demanded, more of 
her own consciousness than of her angry hearer, who 
again assumed to reply. 

“ W’ich they wur lovyers and sweet’arts as ’appy as 
the summer day was long, they wur, till yo kem an’ 
parted on ’em. An’ yo might jest a well a parted man 
an’ wife ! Oh ! the sin yo ’ll hev to answer fur ! Part- 
ing two true lovyers and killing the sweetest little mis- 
tress that ever lived ! I hev spek my mind !” con- 
cluded Kit o’ Jim, decisively, as she turned and 
resumed her work. 

“ Have I done this ?” inquired Antoinette of her own 
heart. “ Have I really come between poor dear Net 
and her lover? I had not the least idea that he had 
ever been interested in Net. She is such an unlikely 
little person I And I should never have suspected 
that she cared a straw for him. I thought she cared 
for nothing but the old rector and the babies. I 
thought she was one of those women who are cut 
out to be old maids. And all this time it appears that 
she loves Adrian Fleming, for whom I do not care a 


114 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


whit ! Well, I will put a stop to this nonsense between 
him and me. I am tired of it, any way. Besides, he 
is growing troublesome and even offensive, and, may 
be, also dangerous, and I am more than half afraid of 
him. I will turn over a new leaf. I will give him the 
cold shoulder. I will drive him back to his true alle- 
giance,” concluded the girl, who, call her “ butterfly,” 
•‘peacock,” “coquet,” or whatever name may seem 
to suit her pride and vanity, had yet a human heart 
beating under the silk and lace that decked her beauty. 

She would drive him back to his allegiance. Yes 
but we all know how much easier it is to kindle than to 
quench a conflagration. 

Antoinette had gone too far. 


CHAPTER XL 

ARIELLE. 

Oh, could he but know 
With what a deep devotedness of woe 
She wept his absence, o’er and o’er again 
Thinking of him, still him, till thought grew pain. 

And memory, like a drop that night and day 
Falls, cold and ceaseless, wore her heart away. 

Moore. 

The real cause of the interrupted marriage ceremo- 
nies at Montjoie Castle never transpired, for though it 
was known to some half-a-dozen persons, they were all 
too much interested in keeping the secret to let it 
escape them. 

The neighborhood continued to believe that the wed- 


ARIELLE. 


115 


ding- had been arrested by the sudden illness of the 
bride, and to suspect that her malady was typhus fever, 
a terrible scourge that had been occasionally epidemic 
at Miston, with devastating results. 

This suspicion was much strengthened by the sudden 
departure of the families of Cloudland and Caveland, 
whose example was .soon followed by all others who 
could conveniently leave the “infected ’’ neighborhood. 

The tenantry around Castle Montjoie would often 
come to the lodge gate to make inquiries of the portress, 
old Mrs. Horner, who could tell them nothing more 
than that — 

“ Her little ladyship is bad, very bad, i’ the fever, 
which I think must be the tie-foot, though, in course, I 
dunnot know, for Dr. Bennet he nivver says nothink to 
nobuddy, and as for the great Lunnun gentleman, he 
jest rolls through i’ the carriage ’thout so much as look- 
ing at a buddy, much less chuck me a shilling, though 
- I mought ’old the gate open for un, an’ drop c’urfsies 
till my knees gin way under me.’’ 

The offending London physician had, however, made 
but two visits to Castle Montjoie, and these had been 
during the first week of Lady Arielle’s illness. 

After which he had left her in the care of the Miston 
doctor, who was quite competent for the charge. 

Lady Arielle recovered very slowly. 

It was ten days from the morning of her broken wed- 
ding before she was able to sit up ; and it was two 
weeks before she was strong enough to be led from her 
bed-chamber to her boudoir, and placed in her easy- 
chair in the embrasure of the bay window overlooking 
the water. 

Here she lay reclining for hours, doing nothing, say- 
ing nothing, with her eyes wearily cast down on the lit- 
tle, emaciated hands folded on her lap. 


116 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


She was fearfully changed since that broken wed- 
ding day. Her beautiful figure, which had always 
been fairy-like, was now so fragile ; her lovely face, 
which had always been dainty, was now so delicate ; 
and her complexion that had once been opaline in its 
vivid, changing rose hues, was now so fair, clear and 
transparent that she seemed less a maiden of flesh and 
blood belonging to this lower world, than a form of 
air, the spirit of some dreamer’s vision. 

The grandmother, the aged countess, usually sat in 
another chair near that of the young girl, and worked 
at the silk flower embroidery, which was her favorite 
occupation. 

The grandfather, the old earl, came frequently into 
the room, bringing a newspaper or a book, to read some 
item of news, or some fine passage that he hoped 
might amuse or interest Arielle. 

Indeed, during the convalescence of the girl her bou- 
doir became the common sitting-room of the little fam- 
ily of three. 

But at first Arielle took little notice of any person, or 
any thing around her. There she lay reclining in her 
chair day after day, white as the robe that wrapped her 
slender frame, her fair hair flowing down her shoidders 
her fragile hands folded on her lap, her eyes wearily cast 
down, or listlessly looking from the bay window far 
. over the waters. 

Her young friends from the rectory had called sev- 
eral times during the earlier days of her illness, but 
they had been gently denied admittance to her pres- 
ence, upon the just plea that perfect quiet had been 
prescribed for her by her physicians ; and, as the dis- 
tance between the castle and the rectory was a good 
dozen miles, they had lately contented themselves by 
sending occasionally to make inquiries. 


ARIKLLE. 


117 


No one else, except Dr. Bennet, came near the cas- 
tle. 

Lady Altofaire sometimes tried to interest Arielle in 
the news of the neighborhood. Or the aged lady en- 
deavored to attract the girl’s attention to the beauti- 
ful embroidery in which she herself found so much in- 
terest and amusement. 

In this pretty needlework, as well as in the thought 
that she was helping her grandmother, Arielle began to 
feel a soothing influence. 

It was now near the last of June. The weather was 
growing oppressively warm, and the earl and countess 
began to talk of taking their child to Skol, a sea-girt 
rock, crowned by an ancient castle, and situated north 
of the Shetland Isles. 

When the proposal to leave Castle Montjoie for the 
Isle of Skol was made to Arielle, she consented to go, 
but with such a perfect indifference that the countess 
felt discouraged, and said : 

“ If you would rather remain here, or go elsewhere, 
dear child, speak and express your preference. You 
shall do as you please, Arielle. You know that we only 
live to make you happy.” 

“ Dear gra’ma, I havm no preference at all, every 
part of the world is the same to me,” she answered, 
gently. 

“ Oh, Arielle, I wish you were not so apathetic to 
everything in life,” said the aged lady, with such a look 
of distress that Arielle answered earnestly : 

“ I wish that I could feel differently, for your sake, 
dear gra’ma. I will try. Perhaps after a while — ” 

Then suddenly she burst into tears, and wept as she 
had never wept since her broken wedding-day— as she 
had never wept in the whole course of her short, sunny 
life. 


118 


THE SKELETON IN THE CI-OSET. 


“ My darling, what is it now ? What have I done or 
said to distress you so ?” inquired the old countess, in 
trembling tones, as she arose and laid her white, 
withered hand caressingly on the golden-haired head of 
the girl. 

She would have taken Arielle in her arms and rocked 
her to sleep, as she had done often enough ’in her infancy, 
had she been strong enough. But now .she could only 
stroke the golden hair gently and re'peat her question : 

“ What have I said or done to distress my dove ?” 

“ Nothing, sweet gra’ma, nothing,” sobbed the girl 
through her fast-falling tears. “ You are all good to 
me, and you always were ! It is I who am weak and 
foolish, and, and — oh, gra’ma ! IV/iy don’t you some- 
times speak of poor Valdimir ! dear Valdimir ?” 

“ darling Arielle !” breathed the old countess, sink- 
ing back in her chair in utter dismay. 

“ This dead silence is so — deadly, gra’ma ! — so deadly 
it seems to suffocate me !” 

“ My oitm Arielle !” was all the aged lady could aspi- 
rate. 

“ Where is he, dear gra’ma ? Has any news been 
heard of him she pleaded. 

“We do not know where he is. He left no clew to 
his course, and we have had no news of him,” answered 
the countess, in a low and hesitating voice. 

“ Oh, gra’ma, has no one tried to follow him, or to cor- 
respond with him, since he left ?” she inquired, nervously 
clasping her fair, transparent fingers and looking be- 
seechingly in the face of her aged relative. 

“ No, my child ! No one could do either, not knowing 
where to go or where to write ; nor even if any did 
know, or could follow, or write, would it be proper. 
Dear child, you must forget this young man. He is 
unworthy of you !” 


ARIELLE, 


119 


“ Oh, no, no, no, no ! Valdimir is not so !” exclaimed 
Arielle, with more passion and animation than she had 
shown in the whole of her calm life. “ Oh, gra’ma, how 
can jou, who have known him from his infancy, say that 
he is so ?” 

“ My love, he says it himself in his renunciatory note 
to you.” 

“ But he is under a mistake ! a delusion ! a halluci- 
nation of some sort ! Do I not know it V' she impatiently 
exclaimed, 

“ My poor, dear love, you are an inexperienced girl, 
you know little of the world,” said the aged lady, very 
gently . 

“ I am inexperienced, and I know little, generally 
speaking; but I am very experienced \n him ; I know 
very much of him. We have been playmates from the 
time he was six years old and I was two, and I myself 
remember him quite clearly from the time he was 
seven years old and I was three. And I have always 
known him, as child, boy, .and youth, to be good, noble 
and magnanimous, in thought and word and deed !” 
said Arielle, with enthusiasm. 

“ I do wish that he had continued so, my dear — I 
do wish it from my soul !” sighed the old countess. 

“ He has continued so, gra’ma ! He will always con- 
tinue so ! We have a homely proverb, gra’ma. It is ; 
‘ Speak of a man as you 've found him.’ Oh, speak of 
Valdimir as you 've found him ! Hoiu have you found 
him, gra’ma ? Unworthy ? Open the book of his life 
and read ! Of what unworthy word or deed can you 
accuse him ? You, who remember him clearly from 
the time he came here an infant .scarcely five years of 
age, and have known him straight along up to the 
present time. Speak, gra’ma ! Answer me !” 

“ I acknowledge, my dear,' that 1 can recall no 


120 


THE SKELETON IN THE CI-OSET. 


instance of unworthiness in Valdimir Desparde. Yet, 
he has abandoned you, his betrothed, on the very day 
that he was to have made you his wife ; and he declares 
in his note to you that it is because he is unworthy of 
you,” said the old lady, very gently. 

“ And I repeat, gra’ma, that he acts under some 
strange misapprehension, that must be set right some 
day.” 

“ I pray that it may be so,” sighed the aged lady. 

“ Gra’ma !” said the girl again. 

“ Well, love ?” 

“ I believe in Valdimir Desparde’s pure integrity. I 
shall always believe in it. Gra’ma, I do not wish that 
his name should be dropped out of our conversation, as 
it has been since that woful day of our broken wed- 
ding — as woful to //m, I know, as it was to me." 

“ My dear, if we have refrained from speaking of 
him, it was not only because we had really nothing to 
say, but because we did not wish to bring him to your 
memory.” 

“As if he were ever out of my memory !” sighed the 
girl. “ And, gra’ma,” she resumed, “ there is one 
thing I wish you to promise me now — that will make 
me feel a little less wretched.” 

“ I will promise anything that will make you happier, 
my child,” replied the old countess. 

“Not ‘happier,’ for I am not happy; but less 
wretched and despairing, dear gra’ma.” 

“ Well, love, what is it ?” 

“Promise me that if ever Valdimir Desparde comes 
back to us, he shall be received as kindly as if he had 
come back with me from that wedding tour upon which 
we had arranged to set forth on that fatal first of June,” 
said the girl, solemnly. 


ARIELLE. 


121 


‘Oh, Arielle ! Well, I will, on the condition that he 
can explain his strange conduct to our satisfaction,” 

“That he will do, dear gra’ma ; for be sure, when 
he does come back he will be able to explain, and then 
you will see that whoever has been to blame, Valdimir 
has been blameless.” 

After this little scene, in which Arielle had unbo- 
somed herself to her aged relative, Lady Altofaire 
noticed that the girl seemed less apathetic and despond- 
ing, and more serene and cheerful. 

The proposition to go to Skol Castle was renewed, 
and Arielle gave a cheerful assent, adding ; 

“ There is no reason, is there, why we should not 
invite Lord Beaudevere and Vivienne Desparde to come 
to us there for the summer months ? The London 
season will soon be over now, and they will be going 
somewhere North to spend the heated term.” 

“ We will invite them to join us at Skol, if you wish, 
my dear,” answered the countess, 

“ Oh, I wish it very much ! Write to them at once, 
dear gra’ma. I also will write to Vivienne and beg her 
to come to me. She will believe in her brother’s integ- 
rity and we will talk of- him together, and that will be a 
comfort to us both. Besides, if any news should come 
of Valdimir, they will be likely to be the first to hear 
it,” added Arielle, at once expressing her inmost 
thoughts, for she had no motives of action concealed 
from the aged lady who had been more than a mother 
to her. 

When the countess repeated this scene to the doctor 
on his next visit to the castle, the latter expressed his 
satisfaction, saying : 

“ Now, indeed, the little lady is improving, and will 
soon be herself again.” 

Their departure from Castle Montjoie for the Isle of 


122 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Skol was arranged to take place on the 15th of July, and 
their friends were invited to join them there on the ist 
of August. 

The invitation of the Earl and Countess of Altofaire 
was accepted by Lord Beaudevere and Miss Desparde, 
who seemed to feel that the escapade of Valdimir should 
be no cause of, estrangement between old friends and 
neighbors, who had been old friends and neighbors — as 
their ancestors had been before them — long anterior to 
the date of Valdimir’s advent into their circle. And 
Arielle’s affectionate letter to Vivienne was answered 
with the most cordial effusion, warmly responding to 
her expres.sions of continued confidence in Valdimir, and 
joining her prayers for the speedy vindication of his 
course. She declared that nothing would please her so 
well as to spend the summer at Skol in the society of 
her friend. 

Lord Beaudevere and Miss Desparde came back 
from town on the last day of July, to make a few prep- 
arations before following the Montjoie party to Skol. 

After the baron and his ward had left Cloudland 
again for their visit to the earl and countess in their 
distant sea-girt islet, the good people of Miston had a 
theory of the situation very much to their own satisfac- 
tion, to the effect that the “ fever ” had left Lady 
Arielle Montjoie’s constitution in so shattered a condi- 
tion as to forbid all thoughts of her marriage for 
many months to come, if not forever ; and that her 
family had all gone to Skol for her health; and had 
been followed thither by the waiting bridegroom .and 
his immediate friends. And every one pitied the 
young lovers, so cruelly divided by the illnes.s, and no 
one, except the few that were in possession of the 
secret, suspected the flight of Valdimir Desparde, or its 
moving cause. 


CHAPTER Xir. 


BETWEEN TWO LOVES. 

Mine eyes 

Were not in fault, for she was beautiful ; 

Mine ears that heard her flattery, nor my heart, 

That thought her like her seeming; it had been vicious 
To have mistrusted her. Shakespeare.' 

Yeti suppose him virtuous, know him noble; 

Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth ; 

In voices well divulged, free, learned and valiant. 

And in dimensions and the shape of nature 
A gracious person ; but yet I cannot love him ! 

He might have took his answer long ago. 

Shakespeare. 

Antoinette Deloraine was in deep earnest in her de- 
termination to adopt a cold and repellent manner 
toward Adrian Fleming, that should keep him at a 
respectful distance from herself, and perhaps drive him 
back to his allegiance to Net vStarr. 

That very evening she commenced her new tac- 
tics. 

The little family circle had just taken tea, and were 
assembled, according to their daily custom, on the porch 
before the house. 

The day had been very warm, but the sun had now 
set, and the waters, from which a fresh breeze had 

[123] 


124 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


sprung up, reflected the rich crimson after-glow of the 
western horizon. 

The rector, his pupil and his ward were the first to 
seat themselves under the vine-shaded roof. 

Net was still in the nursery, singing her two babies 
to sleep. 

“ Will you take a walk in the shrubbery ? The even- 
ing air is deliciously cool,” said Adrian Fleming to his 
companion. 

“ No, thanks ; I prefer to sit here with uncle ; but I 
think you had better invite Net for a walk. She has 
been in the house all day ; and mind, make her take 
your arm, for she is not strong,” said Antoinette. 

“ I will obey you, though your refusal has disap- 
pointed me, and your order vexed me ; yet will I obey 
you, because it’s sweet to suffer for your sake,” whis- 
pered the lover, visibly chagrined, although he only 
supposed that this action of his beloved was only a 
passing freak of generosity towards poor Net. 

“ I beg you will not talk such balderdash to me ! It 
really makes me sick,” replied Antoinette, not at all in 
a whisper, but in a very firm and audible voice that 
reached the ears of old Dr. Starr, who thought to him- 
self : 

“ Ah, a lover’s quarrel ! How very foolish these 
young people are, to be sure.” 

But Adrian Fleming looked at her in surprise and 
perplexity. 

“ Have I been so unhappy as to offend you ?” he whis- 
pered. 

“ No, no more than you do every day and hour of 
your life,” she answered, aloud. 

“ For mercy’s sake tell me how ?” he whispered in an 
aggrieved tone. 

“ By your rude habit of whispering, for one thing. I 


BETWEKN TWO LOVES. 


125 


think it an abominably bad habit. If people have any- 
thing to say that they are neither afraid nor ashamed 
to say, let them say it audibly. If they have not, they 
had better keep silence.” 

Adrian Fleming sank back in his seat utterly 
abashed and bewildered. 

” My dear ! my dear !” said the old man, looking 
over the tops of his spectacles, and speaking in an ad- 
monitory tone ; for the good soul thought his ward was 
going rather too far, even for the feminine element in 
a lovers’ quarrel. 

“ Uncle, if you knew what nonsense Mr. Fleming 
presumes to pour into my ears under cover of a whis- 
per, you would be surprised,” answered the young 
lady. 

” I humbly beg your pardon, Miss Deloraine. Be 
sure that I shall not offend in like manner again !” 
exclaimed Adrian Fleming, now stung to indignation 
and flushing to his temples. 

“ Happy to hear you say so,” coolly replied Antoi- 
nette. 

“ Humph !” thought honest Dr. Starr, ” it ts a lovers’ 
quarrel, and I had better let it alone. Next worst 
thing to interfering between a fighting man and wife is 
to interfere between quarreling lovers. He who attempts 
to do so is sure to get his heart or his head broken.” 

At this moment Net came out ouietly, and took her 
seat near her step-father. 

Adrian Fleming, though mad as fire,” got up and 
— because he had promised to do so — invited Net to go 
out and take a walk. 

” No, thank you, Adrian. You are very kind to 
think of me ; but I am too tired to walk,” gently 
answered Net. 

” You can lean on my arm, and we can sit down as 


126 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


often as you wish,” persisted the young- man, looking 
sympathetically into the little pale, weary, womanly, 
face. 

“ Please, Adrian, exeuse me. Indeed I am not strong 
enough to walk out at this hour ; but I thank you v^ery 
much all the same,” answered Net, sweetly but reso- 
lutely; for, besides being really too tired for such a prom- 
enade, she was determined not in the least degree to 
eome between Adrian and his new sweetheart, by 
renewing any of her former intimacy with the young, 
fickle lover, but to give him up entirely, without 
anger, without jealousy, and, if possible, without — 
death ! 

“ She cannot go, Adrian. She is tired, as she says ; 
besides the dew is falling, and she would take cold. 
Do you and Antoinette stop your foolish bickering, 
and go and take your usual w’alk,” said Dr. Starr, who, 
besides fearing for his step-daughter’s health, was guard- 
ing her dignity. He did not choose that she should 
take cold by being, as it were, played off by Adrian 
Fleming against Antoinette Deloraine. 

“ I am in ill odor among you all, it seems,” said Mr. 
Fleming, as he sank back in his chair and gave himself 
up to sweet and bitter reflections. 

What could be the reason of Antoinette’s change bf 
manner towards him ? he asked himself. And he 
searched his memory for any cause of offense that he 
might have given her, and, of course, he came to a 
wrong conclusion when he felt sure that he had hit 
upon the right cause. 

“ She is piqued because I have paid some little 
friendly attentions to Net, lately ; and Heaven knows 
I only did it out of pity for the poor thing. That is it. 
She is jealous and angry, and so when I invite her to 
take a walk with me she advises me to ask Net. Noth- 


BETWEEN TWO LOVES. 


12T 


ing can be clearer. Oh 1 I will make that all right,” 
he said to himself, with a smile of gratified vanity. 

“ How different girls are, to be sure,” he mused. 
“ Net betrays her jealousy by breaking her little heart, 
and Miss Deloraine by flying into a passion. What in 
the deuce is a fellow to do between them ? Can’t marry 
both. ‘ How happy could I be with either,’ ” he hummed, 
as he pulled the ends of his auburn mustache, and 
revelled in the fancied devotion of both of these girls. 

Antoinette fanned herself in silence. 

Net sat by her step-father, with her hand clasped in 
his, telling him, in a low tone, of the pretty or droll 
sayings and doings of her babies. 

At length Adrian Fleming walked out by himself. 

The party on the porch saw him strike a match 
against a tree on the borders of the shrubbery, light a 
cigar, and disappear in its thickest shades. 

“ My dear, it is my duty to tell you that you have been 
very wrong in your behavior to your betrothed,” began 
Dr. Starr, ignoring or forgetting his resolution not to 
interfere in the quarrels of engaged lovers. “ It is very 
wrong to wound the feelings of any human being as 
you have wounded those of your affianced husband.” 

Net winced, shrank at hearing her step-father allude 
to Adrian Fleming as Antoinette’s affianced husband. 
Yes, winced, shrank, caught her breath as if a dagger 
had entered her bosom, and she felt the pang, but 
repressed the groan. 

Antoinette, after a moment's silence, suddenly de- 
manded of the doctor ; 

” Uncle, what do you mean ? Adrian Fleming my affi- 
anced husband T' 

“ Of course, my dear. He is, or is to be ; it is all one. 
We all see how affairs are tending. And, really, you 
should treat him with a little more consideration.” 


128 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ He neither ^ is' nor ‘is to be my affianced husband.’ 
How I hate the phrase, applied to him ! He is nothing 
to me, nor ever can be !” exclaimed Antoinette, with 
aroused spirit. 

“ Ah ! you had a lovers’ quarrel — a much more seri- 
ous one than I could have suspected ; but it will be 
made up, I hope. ‘ The quarrel of lovers is the renewal 
of love,’ says our folk lore. Still I think it is evil and 
perilous to have quarrels — even lovers’ quarrels. Make 
this one up, my dear — make this one up with* your 
lover.” 

” How absurd you are, uncle !” exclaimed the young 
lady, very disrespectfully. The idea that you should 
insult me by connecting my name with Mr. Fleming’s 
in that familiar manner, when I tell you that he is noth- 
ing to me, nor ever can be anything to me !” 

“ My dear, he — is nothing to you now, because you 
have quarrelled with him — broken with him ; but he 
has been something to you, before this sad quarrel and 
breaking off — which must be made up again, by the 
way ; for the next most disreputable thing after the 
separation of a married pair is the broken engagement 
of a betrothed pair. Your quarrel must be made up, 
my dear,” said the old minister, with gentle firmness. 

“ Uncle, you exasperate me ! There is not, there 
never has been, and there never can be any engagement 
between Adrian Fleming and myself. Is that language 
plain enough ?” demanded Antoinette Deloraine, 
proudly, 

” My dear, you astonish me ! More than that, you 
grieve me ! Any one to have seen you two together 
would naturally have supposed you to be an engaged 
pair. Moreover, I felt so sure of the way in which 
affairs were progressing that more than three months 
ago I wrote to Sir Adrian, telling him what I thought, 


BETWEEN TWO LOVES. 


129 


and also who yon were and what your fortune was, as I 
deemed it ray duty to do. And Sir Adrian wrote back 
to me, telling me to let affairs take their course, that his 
utmost ambition for his son did not aim higher, in the 
matrimonial line, than that he should marry the heiress 
of Deloraine Park. So I did let affairs take their course 
and looked with complacency on what I supposed to be 
a prosperous courtship, tending towards a happy mar- 
riage. I beg your pardon, my dear, for having made a 
very great mistake.” 

‘‘ It was a most ridiculous mistake, if you will excuse 
me for saying it.” 

“ It was a most natural one, my dear, for anybody 
to make, seeing you together,” said the patient doctor. 

“ Why, I would not marry Adrian Fleming if it was 
to save his life !” exclaimed Antoinette. 

“Then why did you encourage his attentions, my 
dear ? Surely it was very culpable in you to do so, 
unless you meant to marry him.” 

“ What do you mean. Uncle Starr ! /encourage his 
attentions, indeed !” exclaimed the coquette, conscience- 
striken, yet defiant. “ I let him walk with me and talk 
with me, because after I got well acquainted here we all 
seemed to be like one family. Adrian and Net seemed 
to me like my brother and sister. There never was a 
time when I could think of marrying Adrian Fleming ” 

“ I do not see why, my dear. He is young and hand- 
some, intellectual and accomplished, and the heir of a 
rich baronetcy. I had hoped it would have been a 
match. So I am sure my old friend. Sir Adrian, hopes 
even now. It will be a sore disappointment to him to 
hear that we were all mistaken. But perhaps you will 
think better of your resolution, my dear,” 

“ Uncle Starr, if you go on in this way you will make 
me hate that man !” 


130 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ I beg your pardon, my dear. I will say no more 
about the subject,” replied the meek doctor, subsiding 
into silence. 

After this there followed that awkward pause in con- 
versation which generally follows the closing of a dis'’ 
agreeable discussion. 

Net had heard the whole with emotions that rose 
rapidly through all the grades of surprise, incredulity 
and delight. She had withdrawn her hand from the 
rector’s clasp, lest he should feel how it trembled, and 
she had withdrawn herself in the deepest shadows of 
her corner lest her companions should discover her 
secret in her face. 

Antoinette’s conversation this evening had let in a 
new light on her intelligence. Or at least it had seemed 
to do so. Antoinette had never regarded Adrian as a 
lover — would never think of him as a husband ; she 
had received him as a brother only, and had treated 
him with the affectionate freedom of a sister. That 
accounted for all those glances, caresses, and half 
embraces with his arm around her waist, or her head 
on his shoulder — freedoms which had shocked Net’s 
sense of propriety at the time of her witnessing them, 
but which might now be understood as permissible 
between a brother and a sister. Net was very simple 
and altogether inexperienced. She had never had a 
brother, or even a male cousin, or any male friend 
except her venerable step-father, nor any lover except 
Adrian Fleming, and perhaps, she now said to herself, 
she had kept him at too great a distance. 

At this moment a gleam of fire flew through the 
shrubbery to the ground. It was the discarded “ weed ” 
of Adrian Fleming, who was now seen approaching. 

“ Come, my young people, let us go in to prayers. I 


BETWEEN TWO LOVES. 


131 


think we need them to-night. Some unhallowed 
influence has broken in upon our spirits — we have mis- 
understood and vexed each other. Come in.” 

They all arose and followed the doctor into the 
parlor, where they were joined by the two servants. 

Immediately after the evening worship they all bade 
each other good-night and retired. 

Many nights had Net Starr lain awake in despair ; 
but to-night she was kept awake by renewed hope. 

The next day Antoinette Deloraine arose full of her 
purpose of repelling Adrian Fleming until she should 
drive him back to Net. 

The whole family met as usual at the breakfast table, 
where the presence of the servant that waited would 
have prevented all private conversation, even had not 
etiquette forbidden any allusion to the unpleasantness 
of the preceding evening. 

After breakfast Net went, as usual, to attend to her 
domestic affairs, and the doctor walked into his study, 
expecting to be joined there by his pupil. 

But Adrian Fleming, bent on “ making it all right” 
with Antoinette Deloraine, followed that young lady to 
the drawing-room, whither she had gone to try some 
new music received from London that morning, and 
where he found her seated at the piano, with the sheets 
opened before her. 

“ Antoinette,” he began, .seating himself beside her, 
“ why are you angry with me ? What have I done to 
offend you ? Tell me frankly." 

She stopped strumming on the keys and wheeled 
around on her stool, facing him, as she answered : 

“ I told you last night. Nothing more than you 
have been doing for weeks past — nothing more than 
you are doing now !” 

“ W/iaf am I doing now, in the name of justice, that 


132 THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 

should displease you ?” inquired the young man, in per- 
plexity. 

“ You are assuming a position that you have no right 
to assume towards me. It is nonsense, and nonsense 
that must be stopped !” she answered, coldly. 

“ My dear Antoinette ! My best beloved ! Explain 
yourself.” 

“ You must not use such fulsome language towards 
me ! You have no right to do it, and I will not put up 
with it ! lam not your best beloved ! You shall not 
call me so !” 

“ My angel, I swear that you are ! I swear by all that 
is sacred !” he said, dropping on one knee and trying to 
take her hand. 

“ Now, Adrian Fleming, don’t make such a fool of 
yourself as to compel me to despise you !” she exclaimed, 
snatching her hand from his clasp and rising from her 
seat. 

He also arose, half ashamed of himself and wholly 
angry with her. 

“ I do not understand you,” he said, in an aggrieved 
and offended tone. “ You have changed very suddenly. 
Never until last night did you repel my offered love. I 
ask but justice when I ask you to give me a reason for 
this conduct.” 

” You are very dull of comprehension. I thought I 
had made you understand. It appears that I have not. 
Listen, then, to some easily comprehended language, so 
plain, indeed, as to seem rude — I am tired of you and 
your nonsense ! Is that clear enough ?” 

” Great Heaven ! You can talk to me in this way, 
after leading me on and on, until you have won my 
heart and soul — made me your slave, body and mind !” 
groaned the young man, half maddened between love 
and anger. 


BETWEEN TWO LOVES. 


133 


“You my slave, indeed ! I am no robber ! I do not 
take other women’s serfs !” exclaimed Antoinette. 

“ ‘ Other women's serfs !’ Now I demand an explana- 
tion !’’ cried Adrian, growing more excited. 

“ And I decline to give you any, beyond what may be 
implied in this — that I advise you to go back to your 
true allegiance. Net Starr !” 

“ Net Starr! ” exclaimed the young man. (“ Oh ! 
then she declares her jealousy, and all the rest is smooth 
sailing,” he thought.) “Net Starr ! I thought as much. 
You have misunderstood the character of my friendly 
attentions to the rector’s little daughter. Oh ! my angel, 
how could you imagine for a moment that any other 
sentiment than compassion moved me to show the child 
any friendship at all ?” 

“ Why should you presume to feel ‘ compassion ’ for 
Dr. Starr’s daughter ? I do not really see that the 
young lady of the rectory is a proper object of ‘ compas- 
sion,’ ” said Antoinette, with dignity. 

“ Her failing health, my angel — her many arduous 
duties ; but if my charitable interest in the little girl 
offends you, my soverign lady, it shall cease,” pleaded 
Adrian. 

“ I should think your ‘ compassion,’ your ‘ charitable 
interest’ in Miss Starr would very much offend both 
the rector and his daughter, however it may affect me,” 
said Antoinette scornfully. 

“ Then it shall cease. It shall positively cease from 
this day forth. Oh, Antoinette ! you, and you only are 
my queen, my love, my angel 1 Oh, do believe me I 
Do not turn from me !” he prayed, clasping his hands 
and following her as she went towards the door. 

“ I am going to my room. There I hope to be safe 
from your intrusion and your most unwelcome pres- 
ence ! Moreover, I say to you, that if you follow and 


134 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


persecute me in this manner, I shall be compelled to 
ask my guardian to find another home for me !” she 
answered, as she passed haughtily out of the drawing- 
room and up the stairs. 

“ Jealous — jealous as a Spaniard ! Jealous as a fury ! 
Jealous as a fiend ! I am in a pretty broil ! However, 

I do believe I like the little demon all the better for her 
spirit. Hope she won’t keep this thing up long, though. 
A very little of this sort of spice would go a very long 
way in seasoning my love affairs,” said Adrian Fleming 
as, with his bosom in a strange ferment of passion, van- 
ity and vexation, he went into the rector’s study and 
took up the Greek author he was then engaged in read- 
ing. 

Net Starr, who had spent a sleepless night under the 
influence of her hope renewed, now passed a restless 
morning under the same excitement. 

The family met at dinner, and there Net noticed that 
Antoinette was cold and distant in her manner towards 
Adrian, and that he was depressed and gloomy beyond 
anything of the sort that she had ever seen in his man- 
ner. 

And she began to fear, that although Antoinette did 
not love Adrian except as a brother, and was utterly 
opposed to the idea of his ever becoming her husband, 
yet Adrian might love her other than a sister, might 
have misunderstood all her affectionate demonstrations, 
and might ardently desire to make her his wife, and 
feel bitterly disappointed and aggrieved by her present 
coldness. 

Net suffered all the tortures of renewed suspense. 
She felt that she could have borne despair better than 
this state. Despair is a dull pain. This acute anxiety 
was a sharp anguish. Net felt that she must know the 
truth or die. 


BETWEEN TWO LOVE8. 


135 


So, after dinner, when Antoinette followed her 
cousin to the nursery to have a little play with the ba- 
bies, as had been her custom for a few days past. Net 
pushed the rocking-chair to her, and when she saw her 
seated, said : 

“ Antoinette, dear, as we are cousins and intimate 
friends, surely, surely I may ask you a question with- 
out offense.” 

“Ask me anything you like. Net, dear, unless you 
ask me to go out in the heat. I have not a secret in 
the world, nor am I very easy to take offense,” said 
the young lady, who guessed what was coming. 

“Well, then — how shall I put it ?” said Net, in hesi- 
tation and confusion. 

“ You wish to know whether there has been any 
serious love, tending to solemn matrimony, between 
me and young Fleming ?” said Antoinette, helping her 
out. 

“ Yes,” faltered Net, as her pale face flushed to her 
forehead. 

“ Well, then, no; there never has been — not one bit !” 
answered Antoinette, emphatically. 

Net was silent for a few minutes, and then inquired : 

“ Why should he look so very much depressed, 
then 

“ Upon my word. Miss Slyboots ! You had better 
SLsk yourself that question. Have not you been snub- 
bing him in the most cruel manner here of late ? 
Jle loves you ! But you drive him to despair !” said 
Antoinette, making the most reckless assertion she 
had ever made in her careless young life. “ Your cold- 
ness is making him unutterably wretched and di.s- 
agreeable ! You are enough to freeze love to death ! 
I believe that it is all in your manner, and not in your 
heart ! Now, take my disinterested advice, and treat 


136 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Adrian Fleming’ better,” concluded Antoinette, as she 
danced out of the nursery and left Net to digest her 
words. 

Sweet words ! Precious words ! How Net cherished 
them, dwelt upon them, delighted in them ! 

She resolved that she would no longer repel his 
kindly overtures on the false ground that he was, or 
had ever been, a suitor to Antoinette Deloraine. And 
she would not be so much afraid of him who loved her, 
and whom she loved so dearly, nor ever again wound 
him by too repellent a manner. 


CHAPTER XIII, 

A FATAL PLOT. 

Never wedding, ever wooing. 

Still a weary heart pursuing. 

Read you not the wrong you’re doing 
In her cheek’s pale hue ? 

All her life with sorrow strewing ; 

Wed, or cease to woo ! Campbell. 

As the days went on, Adrian Fleming tried in vain 
to secure a private interview with Antoinette Delo- 
raine. 

He, still under his self-flattering illusion that she was 
madly in love with him, furiously jealous of Net Starr 
and venomously resentful of his former attentions to 
the rector’s little daughter, finally grew weary of what 
he called “ her airs,” and determined to change his 
tactics, and, as he phrased it, “ teach my lady a lesson 
and bring her to her senses.” 


A FATAL PLOT. 


137 


In pursuance of this plan, he began to devote him- 
self to Net Starr, and Net received back her delinquent 
lover with a free welcome, giving and receiving hap- 
piness, as she in her new hallucination believed. 

It was with Net now that he roamed through the 
woods and shrubberies of the rectory grounds during 
the sunset and twilight hours. 

It was with Net he sat apart in some shaded nook of 
the vine-covered porch, the ro.se- wreathed bay window, 
or the curtained parlor. 

And yet he never spoke to Net of love, never 
attempted the slightest caress, and never hinted at a 
betrothal, not to say marriage. 

Net was puzzled by the seeming inconsistency of his 
conduct ; yet upon reflection she thought she had 
discovered the right cause, while, of course, it was the 
wrong one. She supposed, in a word, that Adrian 
Fleming refrained from all affectionate advances, not 
because he loved her less, but that he respected her 
more than ever. So Net was very happy in this 
informal reconciliation with her lover. She felt sure 
that, when the proper time should come, he would 
speak to her uncle and their betrothal would be 
announced. She could wait. She was in no hurr}' to 
be married. She was so perfectly contented with 
affairs as they then were. 

Not so her step-father. 

Dr. Starr looked upon this change of partners by 
young Fleming with the greatest astonishment and 
alarm and he determined to speak to Net. 

One morning, after breakfast, when Mr. Fleming 
elected to go out boating, instead of staying home to 
read Greek with the rector, Dr. Starr called his step- 
daughter into his study, placed a chair -for her, shut 
the door, and then, after seating himself, said : 


138 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ My dear child, I notice that young Fleming and 
yourself are very much together lately. Do you think, 
under all the circumstances, that this is quite right and 
proper ?” 

“ Oh, yes, dear father,” replied Net, with a bright, 
frank smile. 

“ But, my child, remember that for many weeks past 
he seemed to be devoted to Antoinette Deloraine,” 
said the old minister, dubiously. 

“ They liked each other’s society, and having no 
other company they were very much together ; but 
Antoinette explained to you that this was only a 
brotherly and sisterly friendship, and when it was mis- 
taken by you and others for a nearer and dearer attach- 
ment, they both thought it was time to give it up. And 
they have done so. Antoinette will not walk and talk 
with Adrian any more, so he has turned to me for 
companionship," said Net, radiantly. 

“ I don’t like that ! I do not think I can permit 
that !’’ said the old minister, dubiously shaking his 
head. " And how is it with you, my child ?’’ he sud- 
denly inquired, 

“ I am happy and content,” replied Net, gayly. 

“ Indeed you seem so !’’ exclaimed the minister, 
looking at her attentively, “ And you seem very 
much better in health, also, than when I talked with 
you about going away somewhere to get up your 
strength !’’ 

“Yes, father, dear, my health is improving. You 
must not be anxious about me any more." 

' “ Net !” . 

“■What is it, dear father ?’’ 

“ Is Adrian Yleming your lover ?’’ 

Net hesitated, blushed, cast down her eyes, but 
answered frankly, though in a very low tone : 


A FATAL PLOT. 


139 


“Yes, dear father.’’ 

“ Hump ! Hump ! Hump ! How long since ?’’ de- 
manded the minister. 

“ Ever since he first came here, father, and before 
Antoinette arrived,’’ she answered, recovering her self- 
possession. 

“ Is — \i— possible !" exclaimed the old man. 

“ Father dear, would you not just as willingly see 
Adrian Fleming marry me as marry my cousin Antoi- 
nette, who does not care for him at all ?’’ inquired Net, 
with a smile. 

“ Do you care for him, my child ?’’ questioned the 
minister in his turn. 

“ Yes, father dear, I do.’’ 

“ Has he asked you to marry him, Net ?’’ 

“No; not exactly, father; but he told me long ago 
that he loved me, and would never marry any one else 
but me,’’ replied Net. 

“That amounts to about the same thing. What was 
your reply 1" 

“ I — did not make any — I could not. I — was taken 
by surprise.’’ 

“ Has he ever renewed his vow ?’’ 

“ Yes, father ; if you call it a vow. He has repeated 
the same words from time to time,’’ 

“ And how have you answered these words ?’’ 

“ Not at all. I — could not answer them. I — took it 
for granted that he knew I liked him,’’ replied Net, now 
smiling shyly. 

“ And to think that all this was going on under my nose 
and I never suspected the young fellow was after my 
little girl !’’ mused the minister, 

“ You do not object to him, do you, father ?’’ inquired 
Net, archly. 

“ Object ? Certainly not, my love. Far from it. I 


140 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


was very much pleased when I thought that he was 
going to marry your cousin. But as I was mistaken, 
and he don’t want Antoinette, and Antoinette don’t want 
him, 1 am very much more pleased to find myself mis- 
taken in my first theory, and to hear that he wishes to 
marry you. Nor can there be any objection on the 
other side ; for, though you have no fortune, my poor 
little girl, yet you are rich in personal qualities. Your 
family is equal to his family, and he has, or will have, 
quite enough wealth for you both. Let him come to me 
bringing the consent of his parents to the marriage, 
when he asks for your hand, and I will give you to him 
— not because he is the heir of a wealthy baronetcy, 
mind you, though that is a very good thing, too, but be- 
cause he is really a very worthy young man. His father 
represented him to me as having been, from childhood 
up, absolutely free from any vice or fault. And so, I 
am sure, we all have found him,” said the deceived and 
benighted minister, pinning his faith on the sleeve of 
the too partial and blind parent. 

But then vanity, selfishness, and instability are vices 
not necessarily discoverable except to those who suffer 
by them. 

“ I am happy to hear you say what you do, dear father. 
I think — I feel sure that Adrian will speak to you in a 
few days,” said Net, shyly. 

“Very well, my dear ; I shall wait for him to do so. 
I hope he will come to the interview armed with his 
father’s approval. Now, love, I will not detain you any 
longer. I know you want to go out with your babies. 
Poor children ! What ever could they do without you. 
Net ?” 

“ Oh, my poor babies ! I can never be separated 
from them, father ! Whoever takes me must take them 
and let me rear them — with your consent of course,” 


A FATAL PLOT. 


141 


said the little niammam, in a tone of deep feeling", as 
she left the room. 

The new suggestion of a separation from her babies 
gave Net so much sharp pain that she was resolved 
not to wait for Adrian Fleming’s formal proposal of 
marriage before sounding him on the subject of the 
twins. 

That very evening, while they were walking in the 
shrubbery together, Net burst forth, apropos to nothing, 
and said : 

“ Whoever marries me, Adrian, must let me take my 
little babies home with me and rear them ! Do you 
understand, dear Adrian ?” 

“ Certainly I do ! And surely no. man living could 
be such a selfish brute as to wish to separate you from 
those children, Net,” heartily acquiesced the young 
man, who having then not the remotest idea of marry- 
ing little mammam and her babies himself, could be 
very generous by proxy. 

“ Oh, thank you, dear Adrian ! I knew how your 
good heart would feel about this ; but still I am glad to 
hear you speak so,” replied Net, warmly, cordially. 

At that moment she would have let him kiss her, and 
even returned his kiss, had he been inclined for such an 
interchange of affection, but he was not. He did not 
even think of it. Those days were past. He was think- 
ing only of Antoinette Deloraine. And if he sought the 
society of the rector’s daughter, his motive was not to 
woo Net, but to pique Antoinette. He never spoke of 
love or marriage now to Net ; he simply walked with 
her or sat with her, and talked on indifferent subjects. 

The next morning after breakfast, when my hand- 
some young man gave himself another holiday to go a 
fishing. Net radiant with happiness, followed her step- 
father into his study. 


142 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“Now what have you got to tell me, you elf? Your 
face shines like the morning star !” exclaimed the rec- 
tor, gayly, for he had been feeling very happy for the 
last twenty-four hours in the brilliant prospects of his 
darling. 

“ Oh, father, what do you think ? Dear Adrian has 
consented that I shall take the babies home with me 
when I am married and rear them. Think of it !’' said 
Net, enthusiastically, reporting the case as she under- 
stood it. 

“ Did Adrian say that, my dear ?’’ inquired the sur- 
prised doctor. 

“ Oh, yes, indeed, so earnestly. Why, he said, ‘ no liv- 
ing man could be such a selfish brute as to wish to sepa- 
rate me from those children.’ I remember his words 
so well, bless him !’’ 

“ Well,” said the rector, “ I had a very good opinion 
of that young man, both from his father’s letter to me 
and from my own knowledge of him since he has been 
here ; but really I had not imagined him to be so unself- 
ish, so unworldly as he has proved himself to be in 
this. And yet I might have expected much from the 
son of his father ! My esteem for Adrian Fleming is 
raised to admiration ! Show this excellent young man 
your appreciation of his conduct. For, I repeat, he is 
one in a thousand. I would like to tell him what I think 
of him ; but, of course, it would not be quite delicate in 
me to allude to the subject until he himself introduces 
it. Remember what I say. Net. You do not know life, 
my dear. You may think the world is full of young 
men just as unselfish, just as unworldly as Adrian. It 
is not. Cherish him in your soul. Net — not only as a 
lover, but as a model man.” 

“ Oh ! I will, dear father,” replied Net, earnestly, as 
she once more kissed the doctor, and hurried from the 


net’s folCy. 


143 


room to obey the call of her babies, who were both 
standing at the head of the front stairs, vociferating in 
chorus : 

“ yia.T!\ma»t ! MamMAM !” 

With what disastrous results this motherless and 
inexperienced girl followed the counsels of her well- 
meaning step-father will soon be seen. 


CHAPTER XIV. 
net’s folly. 

Oh, blame her not ! When zephyrs wake, 

The aspen’s trembling leaves must shake ; 

When beams the sun through April’s showers. 

They needs must bloom the violet flowers ; 

And love, howe’er the maiden strive. 

Must with reviving hope revive. 

Walter Scott. 

Meanwhile our “ model ” young man found himself 
as restless and miserable as he well deserved to be. He 
could not by any effort of his will confine his mind to 
study. He could not keep his attention fixed upon any 
book. He complained to the doctor that he was not 
well ; that he should have to give up his studies for a 
few days and take more out-door exercise. 

Dr. Starr advised him to do so, by all means, and if he 
then did not feel better, to consult Bennet about his 
health. 

The good rector had not the slightest suspicion that 
Adrian Fleming’s indisposition was beyond the skill of 
the village physician, or any one else who could not 
“ minister to a mind diseased,” 


144 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


The truth was that his fine “ tactics ” had not proved 
a grand success. 

His attentions to Net Starr — re-commenced for the 
special purpose of exciting the jealousy and rousing the 
fears of her rival — had not piqued Miss Deloraine at all, 
but, on the contrary, they seemed to please her exces- 
sively. None so gay, happy and debonair as Antoinette. 
She was as gracious and as amiable as it was possible 
to be towards himself and Net Starr. 

This conduct of the young lady was incomprehensible 
and disgusting. 

Or — stay — might not she also be acting a part ? 
Fighting him with his own weapons ? In a word, might 
she not be pretending to delight in his attentions to 
Net Starr, when she was at heart grieving over them ? 

His vanity inclined him to believe in this last theory 
of the case. 

At all events, he was heartily sick and tired of this 
game of cross-purposes. 

Besides, the play was growing dangerous. 

His own exclusive attentions, and Antoinette’s hearty 
co-operation and encouragement, had completely de- 
ceived the rector’s simple step-daughter into the idea 
that she was beloved by, if not actually betrothed to, 
the future baronet and master of Fleming Chase. 

He seemed to himself, now, to have been cast away 
by Miss Deloraine, and picked up and appropriated by 
Net Starr. 

Plague take the girls ! What did they mean ? Was 
he a foot-ball to be bounced back and forth between 
them as long as they pleased to play at the game ? 

Not at all ! 

Besides, what in the deuce did Net mean by saying 
to him so very earnestly that whoever should marry her 
would have to take her baby sister and brother ' 


net’s folly. 


145 


Fascinating idea, that ! 

But, could the little simpleton imagine that he meant 
to marry her ? 

Who was she, to aspire to the hand of a future bar- 
onet ? 

Net must marry some country curate. Yet — no. She 
must not marry ! He could not bear the thought of 
Net marrying anybody. Net must be a nice little old 
maid. To be sure, he had talked soft nonsense to her 
before he had seen Antoinette ; but if that gave Net 
Starr a claim on him, why then there were at least a 
dozen girls in Devonshire, and as many more in London, 
who had a prior claim to him upon the same ground. 

But Net Starr was the humblest of them all, he 
thought. 

Sir Adrian was a very liberal man and a very indul- 
gent father, but he would scarcely be willing to receive, 
as the future mistress of Fleming Chase, the daughter 
of an obscure country parson — for such Adrian Fleming 
considered Net, 

And now he was tired of playing at cross-purposes 
with the two girls, and he resolved to have an explan- 
ation with Antoinette as soon as possible. 

He came home from his fishing in time for dinner 
that day, and after dinner he watched for an op- 
portunity to speak privately with Antoinette. 

She had ceased to guard herself against his intrusion 
because she believed that he had given up his pursuit 
of her. 

The opportunity soon came. 

He saw her take a book and walk out into the shrub- 
bery, and seat herself under the shade of a rose- 
wreathed arbor to read. 

He followed her and entered the arbor. 

She never looked up, but went on reading. 


146 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


He seated himself beside her, and took the disen- 
gaged hand that lay upon her lap. 

She looked up at him, as she withdrew it, with a mild 
astonishment that he found simply insulting. 

Why should she take away her hand and pretend to 
be surprised that he should dare to touch it ? 

How often had she allowed him to kiss it with rap- 
ture ! But he governed his feelings of resentment and 
lowered his tone, as he said : 

“Antoinette, I implore .you, let this estrangement 
between us end ! It is killing me ! If I have been so 
unhappy as to offend you in any way, I beseech you to 
pardon me and restore me to my old place in your 
favor.” 

“ I do not understand you. What do you mean ?” she 
inquired, looking at him with the most provoking cool- 
ness. 

“ Oh, Antoinette, do not answer me in that cold- and 
cruel manner. I love you. Ah, Heaven, how I love 
you ! I only live in your presence. I die a living death 
in your absence. Oh, speak to me !” he prayed, trying 
again to possess himself of her hand, which, however, 
she drew away. 

“ Oh, why do you treat me so ? What have I done ? 
Tell me, and I will atone ! I will atone in any way 
you prescribe. Only speak to me. Don’t keep this 
scornful silence. Speak !” 

“ Well, I w/7/ ‘ speak,’ and. tell you that I think you 
a very fickle, false young man. Pray, with whom are 
you trifling.? With me or with my cousin ?” inquired 
Antoinette, into whom a spirit of mischief had entered. 

“ Not with you ! Oh, my queen, not with you. I 
love you, Antoinette. I love you only, of all women. 
I love you with all my heart and soul and strength ■” 


net’s folly. 


147 


he pleaded, sinking upon one knee, clasping his hands, 
and raising his fine blue eyes as in prayer. 

She looked down on him with her own dark eyes full 
of merriment and mischief. 

“ Speak kindly to me, my love !” he pleaded. “ Oh, 
do but speak kindly to me, for I love you unto death !” 

“ You say so. And yet you devote yourself to Net. 
Perhaps you say the same things to Net.” 

“Confound Net!” he exclaimed, with great bitter- 
ness. “ She has made all the trouble between us !” 

Antoinette burst out laughing, and laughed until the 
tears filled her eyes, looking inexpressibly beautiful 
and piquant in her merriment. 

“ It is to you only I pay my vows, and you know it, 
you distracting, tantalizing, exasperating little witch !” 
he cried, suddenly starting up, catching her in his arms, 
straining her to his bosom and pressing his lips to hers. 

“ Let me go ! — This instant I — How dare you ?” she 
exclaimed, as soon as she could catch her breath 
between his kisses. 

Whether he would have obeyed her indignant com- 
mand or not is doubtful, had not rescue appeared in 
the person of Kit o’ Jim. 

“ Fie for shame thin, sur, to be kissing of a lass agin 
her wull !” were the words that brought Adrian 
Fleming to his senses, as he started, dropped Antoi- 
nette, and whirled around to face the “ Missing Link.” 

“ Which a letter hev come for yo, sur, by the carrier, 
and here it be,” continued ^Cit, producing an epistle 
sealed with the crest of the Flemings. 

“ It is from my father,” said the culprit, as he 
received it. “ Pray excuse me while I read. Miss 
Deloraine.” 

“ How dare you speak to me at all ? Never do you 
presume to do so again ! This is the last time I will ever 


148 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


answer you, or speak to 5’'ou on any subject !” indig- 
nantly exclaimed Antoinette, as she put up her hands 
and smoothed her dark tresses away from her flushed 
and angry brow. 

“ No more I would speak to he ag’in, Mistress Anty- 
net ! No, nor notice he, nuther ! A fisher lad wud 
think shame to behave as he do !” exclaimed Kit, 

“ Hold your tongue, girl ! ’ said Fleming, sternly. 

“ Indeed and I’ll no hold my tongue at the bidding 
o’ the loike o' yo ! And if yo dunnot moind wot yo ’re 
about I’ll up and tell the maister how yo conduct 
yo’self to the young leddy, so I wull ! March on 
befo’ me, Mistress Antynet — I’ll purtect yo from the 
ruffin !” replied Kit, stretching her fine bare arms 
akimbo and stepping after Antoinette, who had walked 
on towards the house. 

Adrian Fleming remained in the arbor, but was so 
covered with confusion that he could scarcely read his 
father’s letter or gather its meaning beyond this— that 
his family were all quite well, but wished him to come 
home to join a party of friends who had been invited 
down for the midsummer. 

While he was walking moodily towards the house, 
angry with himself and all the world. Net joined him, 
as was her custom, and with the innocent freedom of a 
betrothed girl, would have slipped her hand within his 
arm ; but he threw it off rudely, exclaiming : 

“ Don’t bother me. Net !” 

She was very much surprised and hurt. She lifted 
her eyes to his scowling face and inquired gently : 

“ What is the matter, Adrian ? Has anything 
annoyed you ?” 

“ Yes ! You have ! I wish to Heaven you would 
leave me alone !” he answered savagely. 

Net turned without a word and left him. 


net’s folly. 


149 


She was amazed beyond expression. She was 
wounded to the very soul. Yet she was not angry 
with him. 

She. went up stairs to the nurser)’-, where both babies 
had been put to bed ; but while one was asleep, the 
other, little Ella, was wakeful and restless. 

Net took the child out of the bed and sat down in the 
low rocking-chair to rock her to sleep. 

And while she did this mechanically, she reflected 
and wondered over the conduct of Adrian Fleming, but 
without the least disposition to blame him. 

“ He has been out of health lately, and now something 
has gone wrong with him. Something has crossed and 
annoyed him, and he has a temper, I find. Well, no 
one is perfect. Not one in this world is perfect ; so how 
could I expect him to be ? He has a temper. All these 
red-haired people have. Even my Missing Link has a 
temper — a red-headed temper, that neither her moral 
sense nor her self-interest can keep within bounds. 
Surely I can put up with that one little fault when he 
has shown such a noble disposition in his willingness to 
take my babies home with us when he takes me. Father 
truly says that not one man in ten thousand would do 
that. Besides, I know that he will feel very sorry for 
having given way to his irritability and spoken sharply 
to me. Don’t grieve, dear Adrian ! I wish you knew 
what an advocate you have in my heart ! Yes, and in 
my arms ! I cannot be angry with you, Adrian, when 
I remember how good you are and how good you mean 
to be to these children.” 

Net stooped and kissed the babe on her bosom, and 
then laid her sleeping in the bed, and went down stairs 
to the porch, where she expected to find the usual 
family group of Dr. Starr, Miss Deloraine and Mr. 
Fleming. 


150 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


But she found her step-father there alone. 

Antoinette had gone to her room in a fit of righteous 
indignation. 

And Adrian was smoking and sulking in the shrub- 
bery. 

“ Come sit down here by me, my dear. I am glad of 
this opportunity for a little tete-a-tete. I have something 
to tell you,” said the doctor, making room for his little 
step-daughter on the bench beside him. 

“ Yes, father, dear, what is it ?” 

“ Why, my love, I have got a letter from Flint 
Brothers, the attorneys who manage Antoinette Delo- 
raine’s estate, and they want me to come up to London 
to examine some records with them, and to consult as to 
the re-investment of certain moneys that have accumu- 
lated during her long minority. I shall start for Lon- 
don to-morrow, but I shall be back on Saturday night, 
in time for my Sunday’s duties.” 

Early next morning — Wednesday — Dr. Starr took as 
solemn leave of his family as if he had been going on 
an Arctic voyage, instead of only to London. 

He had commended the house to the protection of his 
pupil, not knowing or suspecting that Adrian Fleming 
had been summoned home by his father. 

As soon as the rector had gone, Adrian Fleming 
lighted his cigar and walked out in the shrubbery. 

He had offended both girls, he thought — Antoinette 
by too ardent demonstrations of love ; and Net Starr 
by too rude a repulsion of her habitual affection. It was 
time he should be clearly understood by both, he 
reflected. This having two strings to one’s bow was 
not the delightful situation it was represented to be, he 
felt. 

He would write to both young ladies and define his 
position, so that he should not be misunderstood. 


net’s folly. 


151 


At this insane period of his life he did not care for 
Net, but he thought that he could no longer live with- 
out Antoinette. 

He threw away the stump of his cigar, having by this 
time smoked it out, and he returned to the house, went 
up stairs, locked himself in his room, and sat down to 
write his difficult letters. 

Two hours after this, as Antoinette Deloraine sat in 
her room, deep in the third volume of a new work, she 
was disturbed by the noisy entrance of Kit.' 

Kit always moved noisily. 

“ How often have I told you never to enter my room 
without knocking ?” demanded Miss Deloraine. 

“ I forgot. I dunnot think on everything, wen I hev 
got so much on my moind ! And if so be yo ’re a doin’ 
o’ summut yo ’re ashamed on, loike reading warldly 
bukes, whoy dunnot yo lock yo door, and thin yo ’d no 
be caught at it !” retorted Kit o’ Jim, who was turning 
over and over a letter that she held in her hand. 

“ What have you got there ? Is that for me ?” in- 
quired Miss Deloraine. 

“ Yo hev hit it this toime ! It’s for you !” said Kit, 
holding it out. 

“Who sent this ?’’ asked the young lady. 

“Ain’t the surest way to open it and luke ? But any- 
ways Mr. Fleming guv it to me in the hall to bring to 
yo.’’ 

“ That will do. You may go now,’’ said Miss Delo- 
raine. 

And Kit left the room. 

On this Antoinette took the girl’s advice, and arose 
and locked the door before sitting down to read the 
letter, which she knew, by the handwriting, had come 
from Adrian Fleming. 

When she opened the rather large envelope she 


152 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


found two others of smaller size — one directed to her- 
self, and one to Miss Starr, care of Miss Deloraine. 
Both were unsealed. 

“ I suppose his letter to me is an apology for his con- 
duct last evening,” said Antoinette, guessing a part of 
the truth — for, in fact, the letter was much more than 
an apology ; it was an olfer of marriage, and it read as 
follows : ^ 

The Rectory, July — , i8 — , 

My Most Beloved and Justly Offended One. — I 
know not how to address you, or in what terms to ex- 
press my deep sorrow and humiliation in the memory 
of last evening’s offense, when my impetuous emotions 
made me forget myself and all that respect that was 
due to you. I can only plead for pardon in the name ot 
my great love. Believe me, my worshiped one, that I 
love you only of all women, and I love you with all my 
heart and soul. If the merely civil attentions that I 
have seemed to pay another for a short season misled 
you into the false opinion that I cared for any one but 
yourself, I beseech you to disabuse your mind of the 
error. In entreating your pardon and your charitable 
construction of all that may have seemed inconsistent in 
my late conduct, I beg you to accept the greatest proof 
that I can give you of my most earnest and sincere 
devotion. I beg you to give me your hand in marriage, 
to be my beloved and honored wife at once. You know 
that Dr. Starr has expressed his warm approbation of 
our engagement. I happen to know that my parents 
would be delighted to accept you as their daughter-in- 
law. My reason for praying you to bless me at once is 
this : I am called home by a letter from my father to 
meet some visitors at our house, I may be gone for 
several weeks, and may even go from Fleming Chase to 
Oxford before returning here, and I wish to feel sure of 


- net’s folly. 


153 


you, my beloved, before I go. My plan is this — and oh, 
may it meet your approval and win your consent, for my 
life and death seem to hang upon your yea or nay— my 
plan, then, is, that you shall meet me at the Miston sta- 
tion — thickly vailed, that you may not be recognized — 
at ten this evening, to start for Scotland' We shall reach 
Kilkin at about one o’clock, where I have a school friend 
who is in holy orders there, whom I can arouse and call 
upon to unite us. We can then wait for the down train 
that stops in Kilkin about four in the morning, and we 
can reach the rectory at seven. Nothing need be said 
of our marriage. I shall go away feeling secure of my 
prize, and you will feel secure of me, since you have 
received the strongest proof I can give of my love. Oh, 
do not keep me in suspense, or kill me with a refusal. 
This, my darling, is only to bind us fast to each other — 
not to interrupt routine or change the current of our 
lives for the present. When the proper time shall 
come — of which you shall be the judge — our marriage 
shall be celebrated here by a public ceremony, and we 
shall be received at Fleming Chase with all the festivi- 
ties and rejoicings that befit the occasion. Oh, my 
darling, do not refuse me. If you can really pardon my 
rudeness of last evening, and if you really love me. 
grant my prayer, that I may go away in peace of mind. 
Oh, darling, there is no sacrifice that I would not make 
for your dear sake ! There is nothing that I would not 
do for you ! Do this for me, then, I implore you, and 
so you will bless beyond all measure your faulty but 
faithful and devoted lover, 

Adrian Fleming. 

This gushing, impetuous, incoherent letter filled four 
closely-written pages of one sheet of note paper. 

On the first page of a second sheet was written this — 


154 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Postscript, — Read the inclosed note to Net Starr. 
It will prove to you the merely friendly terms on 
which I stand with the rector’s daughter. When you 
have read it, seal it and hand it to our little friend. 
That is, if you consent to make me the happiest of 
mortal men, as I pray, hope, and believe you will ! 
But should you decide to destroy my hopes, why, then, 
destroy the inclosed note also, for you will see that in 
such a case it would be useless — as useless as all my 
future life would be without your love. A. F. 

Antoinette took up the “ inclosed ” note, which, as 
we said, was directed to Miss Starr, in the care of 
Miss Deloraine. 

She drew it from its envelope, and read : 

The Rectory, July — , i8— . 

My Dear Friend. — I am going to Fleming Chase 
to-morrow to see my father and mother to announce to 
them in person my engagement to our mutual friend. 
Miss Deloraine — an event which you must have 
expected, and upon which I know you will sincerely 
congratulate us both. My motive for writing this note 
is to ask you if by any favorable chance I can have the 
privilege and pleasure of doing anything for you in 
Devonshire. Always yours, 

Adrian Fleming, 

Antoinette read these letters with mixed thoughts 
and feelings. She read the one addressed to herself 
with merriment, mingled with a little scorn. She read 
that addressed to Net Starr with indignation and con- 
tempt. 

Then, holding them in her hand, she pondered over 
them, and as she pondered the demon entered in her 
in the disguise of a match-making Nemesis. 


net’s folly. 


155 


She read and re read the letters, studied them atten- 
tively, and then muttered to herself : 

“ It can be done ! I will do it ! The scamp’s letter 
to me might just as well have been written to Net. It 
suits her case just as well as it suits mine. He has 
made love to her just as he has made love to me. He 
has given her cause for jealousy, just as he thinks he 
has given me. He was rude to her last evening as well 
as to me, though in a different manner. I saw him from 
my window when she met him on the lawn, and he 
repulsed her so rudely ! His acknowledgment of his 
faults, his explanations of his inconsistency, his pro- 
fessions of penitence, his petitions for pardon, his 
promise of amendment, his declarations of devoted 
love, his proposals of marriage, his allusions to the 
sentiments, or supposed sentiments, of Dr. Starr and 
of his own parents — all, all, will suit Net’s case far 
better than they suit mine. There is, besides, nothing 
in the letter from beginning to end to betray that it 
was not written to Net instead of to me — except in the 
postscript, which is fortunately on a separate sheet of 
paper, entirely distinct from the letter. Ah ! my hand- 
some young man, you are putting your handsome 
yellow-haired head into a fine spring-trap ! 

“Yes,” muttered Antoinette, continuing her study of 
the letters, “ in his liberal use of high-sounding or heart- 
melting epithets, as ‘ my worshiped one,’ ‘ my beloved,’ 
‘ my darling,’ et cetera, he has not once honored my 
Christian, or surname, with a place in the body of his 
letter. So much the better. The omission makes the 
whole perfectly suited to Net. I will burn the second 
sheet of paper with the marplot postscript on it. I will 
also burn his note to Net, and then I will put his letter 
to 7ne in the envelope his own hand directed to Net, and 
I will give it to her. And he will run away with Net 


166 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


to night and probably find himself married to her in 
the morning. 

Having come to this conclusion, Antoinette once more 
carefully examined the letter to see if there was any 
word or phrase in it that might betray that it was 
intended for herself, instead of for Net, and finding 
that there was really none, she folded the letter and 
slipped it into the empty envelope that Adrian Fleming 
had directed in his own handwriting to “ Miss Starr, in 
the care of Miss Deloraine,” and sealed it up. 

Then she burned the real letter to Net and the tell- 
tale postscript to herself, and left the room to seek the 
rector’s daughter where she knew she would find her 
at this hour — in the store-room giving out provisions 
for the day. 

“ Come here, Net — I want you,” said Miss Deloraine, 
putting her head in at the door. 

“ Well, what is it ?” inquired Net, expecting nothing 
more than a proposal for a walk, a drive, a visit, or a 
picnic of perhaps more than usual importance. 

“ This was sent to me, with a request from the writer 
that I would hand it to you,” said Antoinette, producing 
the letter from her pocket and placing it in the hands 
of Net. 

“ Why,” said the latter, gazing at the envelope in 
surprise — “ why could he not have spoken to me, if he 
has anything to say ?” 

” I presume that with his usual tact and delicacy he 
has given you cause of offense, and dares not speak to 
you, so he sends me with a letter as a mediator,” 
replied Antoinette. 

” Did he tell you so and ask you to become his 
advocate ?” inquired Net, with a smile, as she turned 
the letter over and over in her hands. 

“ Oh, no ! I merely spoke from my own observations 


net’s folly. 


157 


of the young gentleman. But why don’t you open your 
letter ? Or do you wish to take it away with you and 
open it alone ?” 

“Oh, I will doit here,’’ said Net, as she broke the seal 
of the envelope and drew out the letter. As she 
glanced over it her cheeks flushed and paled. Then 
rising suddenly, she said : 

“ Antoinette, dear, if you will excuse me, I would 
rather take this to my own room. It — it — it requires 
thought.” 

“ All right ! I guessed it would !” laujhed the reck- 
less girl. 

Net withdrew with her letter. 

As soon as Miss Deloraine was left alone she closed 
her door and locked it, and sat down and wrote the 
following note, which she left without date or signa- 
ture. ■ ; 

“Your note received with delight. You are too well 
beloved not to be freely forgiven. Be at the railway 
station at the appointed time. But do not speak or in 
any way recognize me during the journey. The vail 
you advised shall be very thick, and shall be rigidly 
worn until the conclusion of the marriage ceremony. I 
delivered your note to Net and saw her open and read 
it. I fear you have heretofore encouraged her predilec- 
tion for yourself, and that she feels this news very 
deeply. I beg you, therefore, to keep out of her way 
until all is over. For this reason it would be better 
that you should absent yourself from the house all day. 
You need not answer this note ; but make your prepa- 
rations quietly, and be at the station at the appointed 
hour.” 

Having finished this note, she folded it up into a very 


158 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


small compass, and went down stairs to watch and wait 
for an opportunity of giving it to Adrian Fleming. 

She had not to wait a minute. 

The rustling of her long-trained, stiffly starched cam- 
bric skirts reached the ears of the young man, who was 
seated in the study ! 

He opened the door and came out. 

She went to him hastily, and whispered : 

“ Hush ! Read that !” 

She slipped the note into his hand and turned and 
fled up stairs again, leaving Fleming to learn her mean- 
ing from the lines she had written. 

The young man instantly withdrew into the study 
and devoured the note. His face grew radiant with 
triumphant happiness. 

“ She consents ! She consents !” he exclaimed in his 
excitement. “ She consents, and I am the happiest dog 
alive ! But poor little Net ! I am really sorry for her ! 
I did like her once, and if I had never met with this 
brilliant and beautiful Antoinette — But what is the use 
of thinking about that ? I have met Antoinette, and 
she has made me her slave. She has given me good 
advice. I will follow it. It will be better for me to 
absent myself from the house to-day, so as not to meet 
Net. I will do so.” 

He went to his room and changed his dress for a 
travelling suit, packed a small dressing bag and brought 
it down with him. 

Then he rang the bell, which was answered by Kit. 

“ Tell the young ladies that I am going out and shall 
not return to dinner,” he said. 

“ All roight. I ’m thinkin’ they ’ll no brek their 
hairts aboot it,” answered the Missing Link, as she left 
his presence. 

Five minutes later Adrian Fleming left the house and 


net’s folly. 


159 


bent his steps towards the beach, where he meant to 
take a boat and spend a few hours on the water, dine at 
the village hotel, and lounge away the afternoon over a 
book, until it should be time for him to keep his appoint- 
ment at the railway station. 

Meanwhile Net Starr sat in the nursery, poring over 
her letter, as she supposed it to be, with mixed feelings 
of delight and terror. 

The two children sat on the floor too busy cutting up 
paper and making a litter to notice their little mam- 
mam, who sat there so absorbed in her paper. 

Now if my readers will turn back a little and glance 
over Adrian Fleming’s letter with Net’s eyes they will 
see how inevitable it was that she must have been 
deceived by it. 

She made running mental comments as she read. 

“ He calls me his ‘ offended one ;’ but I was never 
offended with him. 

“ He asks me to ‘ pardon ’ him. Why, I did that at 
the moment he hurt me. 

“ He says his friendly ‘ attentions ’ to another may 
have misled me into the supposition that he cared for 
her as he cared for me. Oh, yes, yes, they did mislead 
me, and make me so miserable. But this compensates 
for all. 

“And he wants me to go away with him to-night to 
be privately married in Scotland, and then return here 
and live on as if nothing had happened. 

“ Could I do this ? 

“ He asks me to do this for his peace of mind. He 
says that he would make any sacrifice for me. He says 
that he would do anything for me. And he asks me to 
do this for him. 

“Oh, how I wish I knew what was right! What 


160 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


would my dear father advise if he were here and I could 
consult him ? 

“ An elopement ! A secret marriage ! Oh, these things 
have a sinful, shameful look ! 

“ But — but — Adrian would never ask me to do what is 
really wrong. Father says he is one man in a thousand ! 

“ And Adrian says he would make any sacrifice for 
me. He would do anything for me. And surely, surely 
he has proved it in expressing his willingness that I 
should take my babies home with me when I go to 
Fleming Chase as his wife ! 

“ And what did father tell me ? That there was noth- 
ing I could do, no sacrifice I could make, that would be 
too great for a man like Adrian Fleming. 

“ And now that I am called upon to make a little 
sacrifice of my pride or prudery by consenting to a sud- 
den and secret marriage with the man of my father’s 
choice, as well as of my own, I hesitate ! 

“ I will hesitate no longer ! I will go with Adrian 
and marry him to-night and get back to the rectory 
to-morrow. He will be satisfied and no one will be 
harmed. I must let him know,” she concluded ; and 
she went to a little writing-desk, opened it and wrote 
as follows : 

Dear Adrian. — I never was offended with you, since 
you never gave me cause for offense. I have nothing, 
therefore, to pardon in you. I will go with you to-night, 
because I love you and because I know I ought to do all 
in my power to prove my gratitude for all that you have 
promised me in behalf of my baby sister and brother. I 
will meet you at the time and place appointed, closely' 
vailed, as you wisely counsel. 

Your own Net. 

She put this note in an envelope, sealed and directed 


ket's folly. 


161 


it, and ran across the upper hall to Antoinette’s cham- 
ber, where she found the beauty lolling in an easy-chair, 
cutting the leaves of the last Cornhill. 

“ Well, love, have you got through reading your letter ? 
You have been a long time at it !” exclaimed Miss Del- 
oraine, with an arch smile. 

I have both read and replied to it,” answered Net, 
with a conscious blush. “ And as you-broiight me the 
letter, will you be kind enough to take the reply ?” 

“ Certainly I will take it,” said Antoinette holding 
out her hand. 

“ It — should be delivered soon,” said Net, hesitating 
and blushing. 

“Oh, I will lose no time,” exclaimed Miss Deloraine, 
rising, with the letter in her hand. 

The two girls left the chamber together. Net to 
return to the nursery, and Miss Deloraine to go down 
stairs under the pretense of delivering a letter which 
she immediately proceeded to destroy by tearing it up 
into the smallest bits and dropping them into the kitchen 
fire. 

The girls met again at the dinner table. 

Kit waited. 

“ Where is Mr. Fleming ?” inquired Miss Deloraine, 
as if she did not know. 

“ Gone a fishing. Get drownded some o’ these days, 
and sarve um roight ! What call hev a gentl’an tak- 
king oop a poor man’s trade ?” demanded Kit. 

Immediately after tea. Net took the children up to 
their nursery, which was still her own spacious bed- 
chamber, and here she undressed and washed them 
with her own hands, put them into their clean night 
gowns, heard them lisp the Lord’s Prayer after her, 
and then laid them in the bed which every night they 
shared with her as they had done from their birth. 


162 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Net was now very sorrowful ! Yes, notwithstanding 
she was going to meet her lover, going to be married 
to her lover, the man approved by her revered father, 
as much as he was adored by herself — Net was very 
sorrowful. 

To the rector’s gentle step-daughter, brought up 
in the sacred atmosphere of religions principles and 
duties, the very idea of an elopement and a secret mar- 
riage was wrong, perilous, and humiliating. 

In vain she said to herself over and over again, that 
hers was an exceptional case ; that her honored father 
himself had told her that no sacrifice such an estimable 
young man as Adrian Fleming could ask at her hands 
could be too great an acknowledgment .of his magna- 
nimity towards herself and her baby sister and brother ; 
that the marriage would be a mere form. 

Still she dreaded her adventure. She felt impelled 
to give it up even now. But to do so would be more 
unkind to Adrian than to have refused him in the first 
instance. 

No. She could not be an apostate to her given 
promise. She would go and meet her lover. After all, 
she asked herself, what a trifle this was to alarm her ! 
They would take a short railway ride to Scotland, stop 
at a frontier “ manse,” have a religious rite read over 
them, and then come back. 

She looked at the clock ; it wanted a few minutes of 
nine. 

She lowered the light of the nursery lamp and went 
down stairs to the drawing-room, where she expected 
to find Antoinette, 

Miss Deloraine was seated at the piano, practising a 
piece of new music. 

“ I have only come to bid you good-night, Antoinette, 
dear,” she said as she came up to her cousin. 


net’s folly. 


163 


Miss Deloraine whirled around on her stool and con- 
fronted Net with the mischievous question : 

“ Why, are you going- to bed so early as this ?” 

“ No, I am not going to bed, but I shall not return 
to the drawing-room again this evening ; so I will bid 
you good-night,” replied Net, a little evasively. 

” Well, good-night, then,” responded Antoinette, 
with an amused smile, as she arose from her seat and 
received Net's kiss. 

Net then left the room. 

Miss Deloraine gazed after her with the same mis- 
chievous smile on her lips. 

” I wonder if the little thing imagines that she keeps 
any secret from me? Poor little soul ! I hope that 
Adrian may not detect her identity until they are fast 
married. I do not think he will. Her figure is like 
mine. Her voice is like mine when I speak low, and, 
thanks to my gentleman’s sage advice about the thick 
vail and the silence, he may not find out that she is the 
right woman instead of the wrong one until it is too late 
to remedy the mistake. Her really own lawful name 
is the same as mine, so that the marriage will not be 
under a false name, and will, therefore, be binding. 

“ Ah ! poor little heart ! I hope when he finds out 
that he has married her, whom he ought to marry, 
instead of me, whom he ought not, that he will not kill 
us both ! 

“ But, oh ! in any case, however Net, the innocent, 
may fare at his hands, how shall /, the guilty one, meet 
him ‘ in his roused wrath ?’ Oh, dear ! I am in for a 
glorious row ! 

“ Stop ! I know what I will do ! 

“ I will tell him that he certainly put the letter 
intended for me into the envelope he had directed to 
Net ; that nothing was more likely to occur than such 


164 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


a mistake — if it was a mistake. And I will pretend to 
be very highly offended, and conquer him it I do not 
convince him. 

Yes, that is what I will do, or else I shall have Net 
and Uncle Starr down on me as well as Adrian, 

“ A very pretty hornet’s nest I shall have about my 
ears if I don’t take care !” said Miss Deloraine, as she 
returned to her music. 

Meanwhile Net went back to the nursery and com- 
menced preparations for her journey by putting a comb, 
brush, hand-glass and a couple of clean pocket-handker- 
chiefs in a little bag, and then dressed herself in a dark- 
brown cashmere suit. Finally she enveloped her head 
in a thick vail. 

It was now about half-past nine. 

Net hurried softly down the stairs, passed the lighted 
drawing-room on the right, where Miss Deloraine was 
still practising at the piano, and her step-father’s study 
on the left, which was now deserted and dark. 

She opened the hall door and went out, closing it 
behind her. It caught with a spring, so that she had no 
need to call anyone to lock it after her. 

It was a very brilliant starlight night, full of the rich 
perfume of flowers and the tiny songs of the little 
insects that begin their vespers after the birds have 
ceased singing and gone to sleep. 

Net took the grass-grown road that led to the turn- 
pike and by that to the railway station. Arrived at the 
railway station, she saw a little group watching for a 
train. She wondered whether her lover was among the 
waiting people, but did not see him, though she looked 
anxiously for him. Presently she heard rapid footsteps 
approaching from behind. 

“ Is it you, my darling ?” inquired a voice at her 
elbow, as the steps paused at her side. 


net’s folly. 


165 


“Yes,” answered Net, in a low tone. 

“ Here, then, is your ticket, I secured it this morn- 
ing. Take it. Hurry on. The train is coming up. 
Let the guard put you into a firstrclass carriage. I 
will watch and follow into the same. But we must not 
seem to know each other, or to be traveling in com- 
pany. Keep your vail down and don’t speak to me. I 
take these precautions for your sake, my love. We do 
not know who may be on the train who might recognize 
you.” 

All this was delivered in a hasty, breathless voice as 
Adrian Fleming signed to her again to hurry on. 

The train had reached the station, where it was only 
to stop thirty seconds. 

The group she had seen loitering about the platform, 
waiting, had all got on board, 

“ What class, Miss ?” hastily inquired the busy guard, 
as the little, slender dark -robed figure appeared. 

“ First-class, plea.se,” replied Net, in a low voice. 

“ Here you are. Miss ! Look sharp !” cried the man, 
as he opened a door, took Net’s arm, and unceremo- 
niously hoisted her into the carriage. 

“ What class, sir ?” to Adrian Fleming, who had just 
come up. 

“ First,” shortly answered the young man. 

“ All right, sir ! In here — plenty of room. Only two 
passengers !” exclaimed the guard, as Adrian sprang in 
after Net. 

“ All aboard !” shouted the official, springing to his 
own perch. 

And the train snorted, puffed, bio wed, and whirled 
itself out of Miston station towards the North. 


V 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE EVIL PAIR AT WORK. 

When first from truth’s bright path they stray, 

How shrink their human hearts with sad dismay ! 

More bold at length, by powerful habit led. 

Careless, or seared, the darkest wilds they tread. 

Behold the gaping gulf of sin with scorn. 

And plunging deep, to endless death are borne ! 

James Scott. 

It was just five weeks from the day of Valdimir 
Desparde’s flight, and two weeks from the morning of 
the Earl and Countess of Altofaire’s and Lady Arielle 
Montjoie’s departure for Skol, that Brandon and 
Aspirita Coyle were taking their morning ride together 
in Hyde Park — a place deserted at this early hour 
except by children, nurse-maids and policemen. 

Both brother and sister seemed in a silent and sullen 
mood, until the sight of a solitary carriage coming 
towards them from the opposite direction broke the 
spell. 

“ My Lord Beaudevere’s equipage,” muttered Bran- 
don, moodily. 

“ Miss Desparde’s, rather.” 

“ Here they are, right upon us. Do the agreeable,” 

[i66] 


THE EVIL PAIR AT WORK. 


167 


hastily whispered Aspirita, as she touched her horse 
and rode to the window of Lord Beaudevere’s carriage, 
that had just drawn up to enable the inmates to speak 
to their acquaintances. 

“ Good morning, Miss Coyle,” said the baron, looking 
out. “ I see you eschew the fashionable hours and the 
crowded Row, as we do. Fine morning, is it not ?” 

“ A matchless morning !” exclaimed the young woman 
with well simulated enthusiasm. “ How do you do, 
Vivienne ?” she added, nodding to Miss Desparde, who 
was seated on the other side of her' guardian. 

Vivienne held out her hand and smiled — 

“ Good-morning.” 

“ "Will you be — shall we meet you — I hope we shall — 
at Lady Croxton’s to-morrow evening ?” 

Before Miss Desparde could answer, her attention 
was called to Brandon Coyle, who, at that moment, rode 
up and greeted the baron and his ward. 

Then Brandon put the same question or expressed 
the same hope uttered by his sister. 

“ I look forward to Lady Croxton’s ball with much 
pleasure. Of course, we shall meet there.” 

“ I think not,” answered Vivienne, smiling. “ We 
start for the Shetlands the morning after the ball, and 
as late hours make a bad preparation for an early start 
and a long journey, I think that we will have to send 
our regrets.” 

“To Shetland !” said Brandon Coyle, musingly. 

“ Ay, ay, Shetland !” exclaimed the baron, putting in 
his word — “ to Shetland, to Skol, to Altofaire’s old Dan- 
ish stronghold, where the family are staying now for 
the benefit of Lady Arielle’s health . They have invited 
us for the season, and there are several reasons besides 
the pleasure it will give us, why we should make the 
visit.” 


1(58 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Brandon Coyle did not answer. He mused, 

“ I must bid you good-morning-, my young friends — 
and, indeed, good-by, as we shall not probably see each 
other again until we meet at Miston,” said the baron, 
cordially, as he shook hands with Brandon, and bowed 
to Aspirita. 

“ You will write to me sometimes,” said Miss Desparde 
in a friendly manner, as she kissed Aspirita and smiled 
adieu to Brandon. 

When the two parties had separated and the brother 
and sister rode on together, Brandon Coyle growled out 
his dissatisfaction. 

” We do not seem to be making much progress. Asp. 
Valdimir is out oi your reach and Arielle out of mine.” 

“ For the present, yes. And it is the best that they 
are so. Especially is it better that Arielle should be 
out of yours. Your impulsiveness and precipitancy 
would be likely to spoil all. We must give them time 
and take patience for ourselves,” 

“ ‘ Patience, patience, a donkey’s virtue,’ as somebody 
has said, or ought to have said ! I won’t have patience, 
Aspirita ! There is Arielle spirited away entirely out 
of my reach ! Beaudevere and Miss Desparde invited 
to visit her ; you and myself left out, although we are 
as old neighbors to the Montjoies as the others are. 
Now I tell you what will happen. Asp — that cousin and 
' sister of Desparde’s will so befriend him and defend him. 
so plead his cause with the imbecile old couple and 
their romantic granddaughter, as to make them believe 
that the fugitive bridegroom is the victim of some 
hallucination, misapprehension, or even conspiracy, and 
that nothing is wanted but a personal interview with 
the exile to clear away every cloud between him and 
his slighted bride. There would be a fatal ending of 
our plot !” 


THE EVIL PAIR AT WORK. 


160 


A few minutes later they had left the park and were 
cantering- along towards Westbourne Terrace, on which 
the Coyle town house was situated. 

Aspirita ran up to her room to change her riding 
habit for a home dress and then went down to the 
^ parlors to wait for her brother. 

In little more than an hour he returned to her pres- 
ence, holding up a letter with a foreign postage stamp. 

“ From Valdimir !” she exclaimed, eagerly, impetu- 
ously, as she sprang forward to seize it. 

“ Yes, it is from Valdimir, Come and sit down on 
the sofa beside me, and we will read the letter 
together,” said Brandon Coyle, as he preceded her 
down the long room to a sofa at its extremity. 

As soon as they were seated he opened the letter 
and read as follows : 

My Dear and Only Friend. — For so I must call you 
now : I write according to promise, on the very day of 
my arrival at this port. But whether my voyage was 
calm or stormy, or long or short, or who were my fel- 
low-passengers, or what day of the month or week this 
is. Heaven knows I could not tell you. Life has 
seemed a dark and heavy nightmare since I left you 
last. I am still as one half stunned, half delirious— a 
cross between a maniac and an idiot, with sense 
enough left to feel all the misery of my position, and 
conscience sufficient to keep me from self-destruction. 

But it is not of my wretched self I wish to write, but 
of /ler — of her ! I shall wait here to get your promised 
letter. You pledged yourself to write to me within a 
week after I had sailed, I know that you have kept 
your promise, and that I may look for a letter within a 
day or two. Oh, I implore you, give me frequent news 
of her—oi her, whose pure name I have not now the 


170 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


right to trace upon this page — of her to whom I am 
nothing forever more, but who is all of life to me ! 
Give me news of her, or I die. Direct your next 
letter to the general post-office, New Orleans, for, with 
the morbid interest that makes the invalid desire to 
understand every step in the progress of his fatal 
malady — its first causes, its earliest symptoms, its prog- 
ress and its method of producing death at the last — 
so I wish to probe my mortal wound, my life secret, to 
the depths, and for this reason I go to the city where 
the last scene of the tragedy was enacted. There I 
may end my career in madness or death, but not in the 
suicide’s grave. I write wildly. I cannot help it, I 
had better stop now. 

“ There,” said Brandon Coyle, “ that is all. He has 
not even signed his name. The man must be a lunatic.” 

“ He has not even mentioned vie, nor sent the least 
message to me, though we used to be such friends, and 
he is writing to my brother !” exclaimed Aspirita. 

“ My good sister, he has mentioned nobody’s name ! 
Don’t you see that he is dazed ?” replied Brandon. 

“ And he is going to New Orleans ! Good Heaven ! 
Brandon ! do you take in all the import of his visit to 
that city ?” inquired Aspirita, in a terrified whisper, as 
if the sense of danger had just seized her. 

“Yes, I do,” responded Brandon. “Indeed, we are 
encompassed by most unexpected dangers ! Beaudevere 
and his ward at Skol, with the confidence of the family, 
and every facility for advocating the cause of the self- 
exiled Valdimir Desparde ! Valdiinir himself by this 
time in New Orleans, investigating the facts of that old 
tragedy ! Asp, we must be up and doing ! We must, 
or we may have our self-banished man back here again, 
to our confusion !” 


THE EVIL PAIR AT WORK, 


171 


“ What can we do ?” breathed Aspirita, in a frightened 
tone. 

“We must work to widen and deepen the breach 
between Valdimir and Arielle, until it shall become 
impassable !’’ 

“ How ? How } Tell me how it can be done, and I 
will not shrink from any means !“ 

“ Listen, then : I have already begun the work. 
Three days after Valdimir sailed I wrote to him, 
according to my promise. I told him that the shock of 
his departure had overwhelmed the bride elect for a 
few hours, but that she had rallied, and at the time of 
my writing she was quite herself again. JVora, in my 
answer to this letter, I shall tell him that she is enter- 
taining company and enjoying life as much as ever. I 
will induce a belief in his mind that she is shallow and 
fickle, and has ceased to care for him, an.d even ceased 
to remember him ! That is the way in which I shall 
work upon /lim — the idiot !” 

“ But on her ?" 

“ By a letter purporting to have been written by him- 
self to me,” he exclaimed. “ Here is an envelope, 
directed in his hand, and postmarked New York. There 
is a deal of proof to be manufactured out of old stamped, 
directed, and postmarked envelopes ! But first to 
destroy this witness !” he said, as he took Valdimir 
Desparde's letter, lighted a wax taper, set the paper 
afire, and threw it, burning, into a stone jar on the 
hearth, where it was consumed to ashes. 

“ Now, then, my sister, I shall write a letter that shall 
appear to be one from Desparde to myself, confessing 
his follies and explaining his flight. Let us see— he 
shall confess to having had a love affair with a low-born 
girl, and to having been driven to desperation by her 
father and brother, who threatened him with exposure 


172 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


unless he should consent to marry the woman ; finally, 
that he married her and taken her off to America, to 
hide his degradation in the crowd of a strange city. 
That must be the purport of the letter. I will write it. 
You, who have such a wonderful skill in imitating the 
chirography of others — you must copy it in your most 
careful manner, and in Valdimir Desparde’s hand." 

“ I won't commit a forgery !” persisted Aspirita. 

“You need not. I will write the letter. You will 
copy it in imitation of Valdimir Desparde’s handwriting. 
That will not be forgery." 

“ The letter will have to be signed by his name, 
however, and that signature must be a forged one.” 

“/ take that on me. I can make shift to imitate 
Desparde’s autograph by accurately copying one from 
the many notes of his that I have on hand.” 

“ Yes, I will help you. I will copy the letter that you 
write. When will'you go to work?" 

“ I will go and do my 7>art of it now, and within an 
hour I will have it ready for you to copy.” 

“ Very well. / will be ready also,” answered 
Aspirita. And the evil pair parted. 

Within the stipulated time Brandon Coyle had 
composed a letter that might have deceived an adept. 

He brought it to Aspirita’s sitting-room, where he 
found the girl waiting for him. 

' He read the false letter to her, and was elated by her 
praise of its cunning, her delight in its completeness. 

“The whole thing is perfection. Arielle can never 
doubt that it came from her false lover ; but how will 
you get it into her hands ? Will you inclose it in a 
letter from yourself to her ?” inquired Aspirita. 

“ By no means ! Not for the world ! What ? A 
gentleman send such a letter as this to a lady ? 
Never !” 


THE EVIL PAIR AT WORK. 


173 


“ I see that it would not do ; but how then will you 
get it under her eyes ?” 

“ You must send it ! A lady may send such a letter 
to a lady, and, under the circumstances, the act would 
not only seem justifiable but praiseworthy.” 

“ Perhaps so ; but how shall I send it ? Write and 
inclose it in one from myself ?” 

“Yes! After we have this letter copied and the 
forged signature is appended, you must inclose the 
spurious letter in one of yours. You must write as if 
impelled by a sense of duty. Oh, there is nothing like 
a ‘ sense of duty ’ as a motive to be advanced in excuse 
for almost anything you.wish to do ! You must write, 
then, from a ‘sense of duty.’ You must tell her that 
the inclosed letter fell accidentally into your hands ; 
that you had always enjoyed the privilege of reading 
Valdiniir Desparde’s letters to your brother, and as soon 
as you found the inclosed you read it as a matter of 
course, and after having done so, you took it to your 
brother and insisted on being permitted to send it to 
your dear friend. Lady Arielle, who had every right to 
know its contents. You must further declare that your 
brother most earnestly objected to your sending it, but 
that you overruled all his objections, and now inclosed 
it, and so on, and so on.” 

“ Yes, I will do it. -But it seems to me that you are 
making a cat’s-paw of me for your own benefit, 
Brandon. I see how all these plots and plans and 
forgeries and felonies may your interests by alien- 

ating Lady Arielle’s esteem and affection from Valdi- 
mir Desparde, to fix them perhaps on yourself. But I 
do not see how all this is going to further my happiness 
with Valdimir !” exclaimed Aspirita, irritably, 

“ Don't you, you little idiot ? Well, I will tell you. 
When Lady Arielle receives your letter, with its inclos- 


174 


THE SKELETON IN THE CI-OSET. 


lire, she will write and acknowledge it. We will have 
another precious envelope stamped, directed and post- 
marked, to manufacture proof from, and Lady Arielle’s 
autograph to copy. There must be another confiden- 
tial letter written— only on this occasion the letter must 
seem to come from Lady Arielle to you. It must be a 
communication that she has nearly recovered her health 
and spirits, and feels that it would be unworthy of her 
to indulge a sentiment of regret for one who had of his 
own free will renounced her on their appointed wedding- 
day ; that, at the earnest solicitations of her aged grand- 
parents, who much wish to see her married and settled 
before their deaths, she has consented to receive the 
attentions of a gentleman who has honored her with 
his preference, and so on, and so on.” 

“Yes, I see! And Valdimir, thinking himself so 
soon forgotten by Arielle, .will perhaps turn his 
thoughts to other friends — perhaps to me, and I may 
catch his repulsed heart on the rebound !” exclaimed 
Aspirita. 

“ We will hope so,” said Brandon, with a covert 
sneer. 

The sister and the brother then parted to effect their 
nefarious plans. After several hours spent in practicing 
the peculiarities of Valdimir Desparde’s handwriting, 
a completed copy of the forged letter was presented to 
Brandon by his sister. Brandon expressed his gratifi- 
cation at the perfect counterfeit and set to work to 
append the signature. This done, the letter was 
inclosed in a note written by Aspirita. Then Brandon 
left the house to post the infamous missive. 

A week of anxious waiting passed, but no answer 
came from Skol. The brother and sister grew fever- 
ishly impatient, and had just resolved to write again 
and inquire whether Lady Arielle had received 


THE EVIL PAIR AT WORK. 


175 


Aspirita’s letter, when old Mr. Coyle suddenly an- 
nouneed his intention to return to Caveland, 

“ It is getting most insufferably hot here, and, 
besides, it is late in the season, and nearly all who can 
get off have left town. We shall leave for Caveland 
to-morrow morning. Mind you, be ready young 
people,” he said, as he rubbed his round, short-cropped 
head until it shone again like a silver ball. 

“ But the fever ?” suggested Aspirita, who, like her 
brother, was very unwilling to leave town at this 
juncture. 

“ Oh, bother the fever ! There is no fever there ! 
More than two months have passed and I have not 
heard of a single case since that of Lady Arielle ! We 
leave town for Caveland to-morrow morning. Mind 
you both be ready.” 

There was no gainsaying their guardian, who had 
them so absolutely in his power ; so the next day, how- 
ever reluctantly on the part of the young people, the 
Coyles left London for Caveland. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


S K O L. 

A rock environed by a wilderness of waves. 

Shakespeare. 

The island lies nine leagues away ; 

Along its solitary shore 
Of craggy rock and sandy bay, 

No sound but ocean’s roar, 

Save where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her home. 

Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam. 

R. H. Dana. 

Skol Isle was a barren rock, crowned by an old 
castle, and surrounded by the sea. 

About a score of fishermen’s huts were scattered 
along the shore, or perched like sea-birds’ nests in the 
sheltered ravines of the rock. 

On the north end of the isle, an hundred stone steps, 
cut out of the solid rock, led up the steep ascent to 
the castle gate above, which was of strongest iron 
grating, flanked each side by embattled towers, tra- 
versed by an ancient portcullis that had not been let 
down for some hundreds of years. 

Arielle’s suit of apartments was in Eric’s Keep, or 
[176] 


8K0L. 


177 


Tower, said to be the most ancient portion of the 
structure. 

Eric’s Tower was lofty and rectangular, with turrets 
at the four corners. Arielle’s room was near the top. 
From the four windows the most magnificent sea view 
spread forth. 

Arielle’s room at Skol was furnished in Spartan sim- 
plicity. Yet she had delighted more in this room than 
in her luxurious apartments at Montjoie Castle, or in 
Piccadilly. 

She went much among the fishermen and their fam- 
ilies, and she formed a class of little boys and girls and 
began to teach the former to read and write and cast 
accounts, and the latter to read and sew. Arielle had 
one great element of happiness in her nature — the delight 
of delighting — and this was gradually restoring her to 
health of mind and body. 

In the third week of their stay at Skol the family 
were joined by Lord Beaudevere and Miss Desparde. 

Arielle met her friend Vivienne with much emotion, 
carried her off at once to the comfortable apartments 
that had been prepared for her in the modernized por- 
tion of the castle, and there poured forth her soul’s 
intense anxiety in one impetuous question : 

“ Have you gained any clue to Valdimir’s fate 

“Not the slightest, dear; but my guardian is still 
convinced in his own mind that Valdimir is the victim 
of some tremendous hallucination or misrepresentation. 
He feels sure that we shall get trace of him soon, and 
that a personal interview will clear up everything.” 

“ I think so, too. That is the hope that keeps me up. 
Vivienne, I have never doubted Valdimir, and I never 
shall ! Tell Lord Beaudevere that for me. I am so glad 
you have come ! So thankful that this great mystery 
of Valdimir’s flight has produced no estrangement 


178 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


between your family and ours !” said Arielle, earn- 
estly. 

“Yes, so am I. But that is because Lord and Lady 
Altofaire are so perfectly just. Almost any other family 
than yours would have broken with ours, under such 
circumstances,” replied Vivienne. 

“ That would have broken my heart,” breathed 
Arielle, in a very low voice. 

This first interview proved to the two girls that they 
were perfectly at one on the subject of Valdimir Des- 
parde. 

The presence of the light-hearted Vivienne had ,the 
most beneficial effect on the health and spirits of Arielle. 

■ Vivienne entered into all Arielle’s plans and pursuits 
with a hearty sympathy and co-operation ; accompanied 
her in her visits to the fishermen’s cottages, and helped 
her to teach the fishermen’s children to read and write. 

There was no post-office nearer Skol than that of 
Dunross on the main. Every afternoon a boat w'as sent 
across with letters to be posted, and it would remain 
until the next morning to receive the mail and then 
return with that to Skol, where it would arrive about 
midday. Thus it may be seen that it required nearly 
twenty-four hours to fetch and carry the mails between 
Dunross and Skol and took up all the time of three men. 

Every afternoon, when the mail had been distributed, 
Arielle would seek out Vivienne and ask, with breath- 
less interest : 

“ Did Lord Beaudevere get any letters ?” 

If the answer should be “ No,” she would turn away 
with a sigh. If it should be “ Yes,” she would inquire: 

“ Any news of Valdimir ? Oh, any clew found yet ?” 

The reply to this question was always — 

“ No, dear Arielle, not yet ; but we must be patient.” 

Arielle had few correspondents of her own, and so she 


SKOL. 


no 


had received no letters since Vivienne’s arrival at 
Skol. 

One day, however, the boat arrived from Dunross 
earlier than usual and bringing a larger mail. 

In it there was a letter for Arielle. She glanced at 
the superscription, and recognizing the handwriting of 
Aspirita Coyle, she thought it was of no more import- 
ance than the usual gossipy epistles of that young 
woman, and so she put it in her pocket to read at a more 
convenient season, while she waited anxiously to learn 
from Vivienne what was in the large parcel of letters 
that came for Lord Beaudevere, or rather, whether any 
of them contained news of Valdimir. 

She had to wait much longer than usual, walking 
impatiently up and down the drawing-room, until at 
length Vivienne came hurrying in. 

“ You have news ! News of Valdimir! I see it by 
your looks !” exclaimed Arielle, flying to meet her friend. 

“ Yes ! They have discovered that he was a passenger 
in the steamer Pequot, that sailed from Liverpool for 
New York on the first of June. They have seen a gen- 
tleman who was his fellow-passenger out, and who 
recognized him on landing at New York. This gentle- 
man has only just returned from America, and seeing 
the advertisement, put himself in communication with 
the agents. But it is supposed that he sailed under an 
assumed name, since his own cannot be found in the 
passenger list of the ship for that day !" breathlessly^ 
exclaimed Vivienne, speaking in short, gasping sen- 
tences, while Arielle, listening, gazed on her with dilated 
eyes and parted lips. 

“ Thank Heaven ! Oh, thank Heaven, for this 
hope I” cried Arielle, clasping her hands fervently. 

“ Beaue thinks the way is clear to find him now,” 
added Vivienne. 


180 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Has Lord Beaudevere told my grandparents ?” 
eagerly demanded Arielle. 

“ Beane is with Lord Altofaire now. I — have not 
seen Lady Altofaire this morning.” 

“ No, grandmamma is not very well and keeps her 
room to day ; but grandpapa will soon gladden her 
with the news. Oh, I am .so thankful ! But, Vivienne, 
what steps will your guardian take to find Valdimir.'* ’ 
anxiously demanded Arielle. 

“That is the worst of it. We must leave you to-day.” 

“ Leave us to-day !” echoed Arielle, in grieved 
surprise. 

“ Yes ; it is a horrid nuisance to have to part so soon 
and so suddenly, but you will be reconciled to the 
separation when you know the object in view.” 

“ To go after Valdimir ?” 

“ Yes, bother him ! I will abuse him to my heart’s 
content now I know he has come to no harm ! You 
know how prompt Beane is ? How quickly he acts 
upon that iron will that goes for his whole mind ! 
Well, he had no sooner told me the contents of his 
letter than he folded it up and added : 

“ ‘ Now we must follow our hand.some young man to 
the New World ! Go and tell your maid and my man 
to pack two valises with clothes enough to last us two 
weeks. We must cross to the main to-day and take 
the first train we can catch to Liverpool and the first 
steamer to New York ! Off with you now and have 
the bags packed, with just enough to last the voyage. 
We can leave all the rest of our luggage here for the 
present, and get whatever we may want in New York.” 

“This is very sudden !" exclaimed Arielle. 

“ It is indeed ; but remember, dear, that we go to 
find Valdimir, and to bring him back ; and let that 
thought console you. And now, indeed, I must go and 


nkt’s fate. 


181 


see to that packing^, for we leave by the mail-boat this 
afternoon,” said Vivienne, smiling as she danced out of 
the room. 

Arielle was not only consoled for the impending 
separation from her dear friend, she was greatly 
relieved by the news received of Valdimir, and rejoiced 
at the prospect of seeing him again. 

But is it any wonder that she should, under all these 
exciting circumstances, have utterly forgotten Aspirita’s 
letter, and left it unread in her pocket ? 

After an early dinner, hastened for their accommo- 
dation, Lord Beaudevere and Miss Desparde took leave 
of their dear friends, and embarked in the mail-boat 
for Dunross. 

After their departure the increasing illness of the 
old countess took up all the time and attention of her 
granddaughter, so that the incendiary letter lay still 
forgotten in the pocket of its intended victim, like a 
torpedo waiting for the touch that must explode it to 
destruction. 


CHAPTER XVII. 
net’s fate. 

Few— none — find whom they love or could have loved. 
Though accident, blind contact, and the strong 
Necessity of loving have removed 
Antipathies, but to recur, ere long. 

Envenomed with irrevocable wrong ! Byron. 

Net, closely vailed, cowered back in her corner of the 
compartment, in which there were but six seats — three 
at each end, facing each other. 


182 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


The two seats on her right hand were vacant, and of 
the three seats before her the middle one was vacant, 
while the two corner ones were occupied — the one 
opposite her a man, whose general appearance 
seemed familiar to her, although she could not identify 
him through her thick berege vail and the semi-darkness 
of the carriage ; the corner farthest from her was filled 
by the form of Adrian Fleming, who sat with the visor 
of his traveling-cap pulled well down over his eyes, 
and with his hands thrust into the loose pockets of his 
light overcoat. 

Suddenly the traveler who sat in the corner directly 
opposite to Net, whirled around, held out his hand and 
exclaimed ; 

•‘Bless my soul alive, Mr. Fleming, is this you ? Why, 
I have only just this moment found you out ! How 
are you ?” 

“ Quite well, thanks. Doctor. Going to Scotland ?" 
replied and inquired the young man — perhaps to pre- 
vent his fellow-traveler from putting awkward ques- 
tions to himself ; perhaps to gain time for thought 
before being called upon to answer such queries. 

“ Well, yes, and a little farther than Scotland. I am 
e7i route for Shetland — for Skol Isle. I have received a 
telegram from the earl, asking me to come for a few 
days or weeks, if I can spare the time, as the Lady 
Altofaire is indisposed,” replied Dr. Bennet, whom Net 
now recognized with growing alarm and anxiety. “ But 
- what takes to the North, my young friend ?” inquired 
the doctor, putting the very question that Adrian had 
been trying to stave off. 

“ Oh ! ‘ A truant disposition, good my lord,’ ” quoted 

Fleming, with an assumption of gayety. Then with 
more gravity he added — “ The fact is, Dr. Starr has 
gone to London on business and will not be home before 


net’s fate. 


183 


Saturday. I have been a little weakened by this warm 
weather, and with one cause and another studies have 
been interrupted. So I am going to run down to Kil- 
kin to see an old college chum.” 

“ Ay, ay, ‘ When the cat is away the mice will play,’ 
I find ! But how did you leave the young ladies, 
handsome Miss Deloraine and pretty little Mistress 
Net ?” inquired the doctor. 

“Quite well, thanks! Here we are at Norton!” 
said Mr. Fleming, as the train “ slowed ” into the first 
station after Miston. 

“ I must get out here and find a glass of water. 
I had kippered herring with my tea and have been dry 
as a salt-box ever since I” exclaimed the doctor, as he 
stepped out of the carriage. 

As soon as Adrian found himself alone with Net he 
stooped and whispered : 

“ Darling, we must be very cautious ! I saw him 
looking at you attentively several times. I do not 
think, however, that he can have the slightest suspicion 
of your identit3^ But when we get to Kilkin we must 
leave the train separatel3^ You get out first and walk 
off by yourself, and I will seem more at leisure and will 
loiter and exchange a few more words with the doctor, 
and onl3' leave at the last minute — to ward off the least 
suspicion. Hush ! some one is coming in !” 

Net had not said a word, and now the warning 
“ hush ” prevented her from attempting to do so. 

Just then three other ladies and one gentleman got 
in and filled up every vacant seat in the compartment. 

In a few more seconds Dr. Bennet put his head into 
the carriage, but finding that the place was full, and his 
own seat occupied by a lady, good-naturedly said : 

“ Fleming, if you will ’kindly hand down my traps 


184 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


from the rack I will find a seat in some other com- 
partment.” 

Adrian gladly acquiesced and reached down the 
doctor’s valise, umbrella, rug, which, collectively, con- 
stituted his traps. 

Then, with a good-humored bow, he left the step to 
find a place somewhere else. 

In a few minutes the train moved on. 

The gentleman and the three ladies who formed the 
party that got on at Norton kept up a lively and inces- 
sant conversation. The ladies had all brown holland 
wraps over evening dresses. They seemed to be 
returning from some rustic party in the neighborhood 
and discussing its incidents. 

The presence of these strangers and the absence of 
Dr. Bennet were alike agreeable to Net, who seemed 
to dread a tete-a-tete with her lover and to wish it put 
off as long as possible. 

She was still separated from him by four intervening 
seats and their occupants — she occupying the right- 
hand corner of the front seat and he the left-hand 
corner of the back seat. 

They were whirled onward now at full speed. 

The train stopped at one other station, and then, at 
about 12:45, slowed into Kilkin. 

“ Kilkin !” shouted the guard. 

Net, trembling through every limb, prepared to get 
out there, as she had been instructed to do. 

The strange gentleman who had got in at Norton 
obligingly handed down her little hand-bag from the 
rack, and assisted her to step from the carriage, as 
soon as the guard opened the door. 

When Net was fairly off, Adrian Fleming got up lazily, 
yawned, took his valise, and went slowly out upon 
the platform, which he had scarcely reached in safety 


ket’s fate. 


185 


before, with a puff, a snort and a shriek, the train 
moved out of the station. 

Adrian Fleming looked about for his companion. 
He saw a little figure that he supposed to be hers mov- 
ing very slowly up the road. 

The platform was now deserted, and but few loiter- 
ers were around the station. 

“ Carry your porkmangle, sir ?” offered two or three. 

“ No ! No ! But, can any of you tell me the way to 
St. Andrew's church and manse ?” 

' “ Right straight before you, sir.” 

“ Where you see that young woman going, sir.” 

Adrian Fleming, being in a particularly good and 
grateful mood, bestowed a shilling a piece on the well- 
meaning informants, and walked rapidly on until he 
overtook the companion of his journey. 

“ Dearest !” he said, as he came to her side, “now at 
last WQ are alone and unobserved. Think of what a 
nuisance it was to have to travel three hours in a rail- 
way carriage without venturing to converse with each 
other. Take my arm, beloved, the road is very rough 
and rather steep. However, it is not very long. There 
is the church, and there is the manse on the left of the 
road Are you tired, love 1 " 

“ No,” answered Net, in a very low tone. “But, oh, 
Adrian, will not your friend be shocked to be waked 
up at this time of night !” 

“ He will not be waked up, darling. I telegraphed 
to him that I should arrive by this train. He will think 
that I have come to pay a long-promised visit to him. 
He is no doubt sitting up waiting for me, and has his 
bachelor’s supper all ready.” 

“ Oh ! he is not married, then !” breathed Net, in the 
same suppressed voice in which she had spoken all along. 

“ Oh, no ! His house is kept by an old woman.” 


180 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ And he does — not — expect — any one but you ?” 

“ No, love. But do not tremble so. I will leave 3 'ou 
in the parlor, and go in and speak to him in his studj’, 
where I can explain the situation.” 

“ He will be shocked, I fear.” 

“Not at all! He will sympathize with us I Well, 
here we are !” cheerfully exclaimed Adrian Fleming, as 
the pair paused at the gate of a heavily shaded lawn, at 
the back of which lights, gleaming through half closed 
windows, and striking on the dew-spangled foliage, 
.showed the situation of the house and the vigilance of 
the household. 

Adrian opened the gate and led his companion 
through it and up a grassy walk, bordered with high 
rosebushes, to a pretty cottage nearly covered with 
climbing plants. 

They entered the portico, where Net at once sank 
down on a rustic seat, being more overcome ^by ner- 
vousness than by fatigue. 

Adrian rang the bell, which * was immediately 
answered by the young minister in person. 

“ Delighted to see you, Fleming ! Just sent off 
McLean with the gig to meet you at the train ! So 
sorry he was too late I Either my time is too slow or 
your train was too fast 1 But come in at once I” 
exclaimed young Kelso, with effusion. 

“ Stop. I have a lady with me. Let me lead her 
into the parlor while I have a word of explanation with 
you in your study,” whispered Adrian. 

Oh-h-h I” murmured the minister, as if he had a 
suspicion of the truth— and he opened an inner door 
and held it open for the pair to pass in. 

Adrian placed his trembling companion in an arm- 
chair, and then went out to Mr. Kelso, who took him at 
once into the study. 


net’s fate. 


187 


“ I presume it is the future Mrs. Fleming that I have 
had the honor of receiving,” said the young minister, 
in a grave tone. 

“You have hit it this time, old fellow! But you 
need not speak in that funereal voice. It is bridals, not 
burials, we are thinking of,” said Adrian, impatiently. 

“ Fleming, my friend, it is my duty to tell you that I 
utterly disapprove of these sorts of marriages,” said 
the young parson, more gravely than before. 

“ What do you mean ? What sort of marriages ?” 
demanded Adrian. 

“ Runaway matches, if you compel me to speak 
plainly. I thoroughly disapprove of them. I had no 
idea that you were coming to me for such a purpose as 
that when I received your telegraphic dispatch.” 

“Then I suppose you. decline to perform the cere- 
mony that will bind us legally together ? And after 
having brought this young girl from her home a long 
night journey to this place, you would have me take 
her back to-morrow morning — unmarried !” exclaimed 
Adrian Fleming. 

* “ By no means ! That would be worse than having 
run away with her in the first instance ! No, I will 
perform the marriage ceremony for you as the least of 
two evils. It is necessary to do so, since you have run 
away with the young lady,” replied Mr. Kelso. 

• “ Humph ! — thank you ! And now I will assure you, 
for the easing of your feelings on our account, that this 
is no runaway match at all ! We have been engaged 
for some time with the approbation of our friends.” 

“ Then why in the world are you not married with 
the approbation of all your friends ?” very naturally 
inquired Mr. Kelso. 

“ I will tell you,” replied Adrian, who thereupon 
began to explain the situation from his point of view. 


188 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ So, if I understand you,” said Mr. Kelso, reflec- 
tively, “ you wish me to perform the ceremony that will 
bind your lives fast together, so that when you part, 
you may feel sure of each other ?” 

“ That is it, exactly.” 

“ Because you cannot trust each other’s simple 
promise,” added Mr, Kelso. 

“ Pshaw ! Why do you put it so very unpleasantly ? 
Lovers are naturally jealous, and wish to be assured.” 

“ Very well ! I hear Sandy McLean coming back 
from the station,” said the parson, as the sound of 
wheels was heard. ‘‘ Sandy is sexton as well as 
gardener and groom. I will have him open the church 
immediately for the ceremony. I will go and put on 
my surplice, and you may come in with your bride in 
about ten minutes. You can find your way into the 
church ?” 

“ Oh, yes.” 

“ Well, you will find me at the altar,” said the young 
minister, as he left his study through a side door 
leading into the vestry — for the vicarage joined the 
church. 

Net Starr had been left alone in the parlor. 

Too restless to sit down, she walked slowly up and 
down the floor until the door opened and Adrian 
Fleming appeared. 

Instead of speaking to her at once, he went up to one 
of the wax candles, drew out his watch, looked at it, 
and said : 

” Five minutes longer to wait. We might as well go 
to the church and wait there. Come, my beloved ! 
The minister will meet us at the altar,” he added, 
hurrying towards Net and drawing her hand under his 
arm. 

Then suddenly, as by an irresistible impulse, he 


net’s fate. 


189 


caught her in his arms, strained her to his heart, pushed 
her vail half up, and pressed kiss after kiss upon her 
lips, all with an impetuosity and blindness of passion 
that prevented him from discovering that she was not 
Miss Deloraine, but her counterpart, whom he was 
crushing in his arms and suffocating with his kisses. 

He released her at length, and Net, terrified but 
delighted, rearranged her head gear and took his 
offered arm as he led her out. 

They found Sandy, the sexton, waiting for them in 
the hall. 

“ The minister tauld me to guide ye baith into the 
kirk, lest ye might lose your way,” said this functionary, 
as he opened the front door. 

Preceded by the old sexton, Adrian Fleming led the 
happy, frightened, trembling girl up the centre aisle, 
between long rows of dark and empty pews, straight to 
the altar rails, where they paused and stood before the 
white-robed minister with the open book in his hand. 

The sexton took his seat beside an old woman in a 
poke bonnet, who occupied one of the free benches to 
the right of the pulpit. 

The solemn ceremony began. 

“ Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in 
the sight of God,” etc., and the ceremony went on to 
its conclusion. The vows were made, the ring was 
given, and the benediction was pronounced. 

A pause, and then the bridegroom half raised the 
vail and gave his bride the sacred kiss. 

The minister came out from the chancel and gravely 
shook hands with both, wishing them much happiness 
in future life. ^ 

“ Now, if you will come with me into the vestry 
we will sign the register,” said Mr. Kelso, leading the 
way. 


190 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Adrian drew Net’s arm within his own and followed. 

“ Come alang, Mistress McCan, we maim gae and pit 
our names to the deed,” said Sandy, the sexton. 

When they reached the vestry, where lay a large 
leather and brass bound folio — “ The Parish Register,” 
—upon a table, the minister opened the book, and 
dipped a pen in ink and gave it to the bridegroom. 

Adrian Fleming wrote his name in a clear, bold 
hand, and passed the pen to Net, indicating with his 
finger where she was to sign hers. 

Net’s fingers trembled so much that she could 
scarcely hold the pen, yet she managed to write her 
name — Antoinette Deloraine. 

“ Dear love, how agitated you are. I should scarcely 
recognize those shaky characters for your clear, Italian 
hand,” whispered the bridegroom, as he took the pen 
from her quivering fingers and passed it to the sexton, 
to sign the register as one of the witnesses. 

When Mrs. McCan, the last witness, had affixed her 
signature, and the minister had recorded his own, the 
book w^s closed, and the party left the vestry through 
the side door leading into the study and thence into 
the parsonage. 

“ I hope you will both make yourselves comfortable 
in the parlor now for a few minutes, while supper is 
being placed upon the table,” said the minister, hos- 
pitably, as they were crossing the hall. 

“ Dearest, would you like to stop to supper V’ whis- 
pered Adrian. 

“ Oh ! no, no, please, I dare not,” replied Net, in a 
low, hurried voice. 

“ Thanks, Kelso, you are very kind, but we must 
get back to catch the train,” replied Adrian. 

” Oh, you have plenty of time, and supper is ready,” 
urged the parson. 


net's fate. 


191 


“ You must excuse us, my dear fellow. Miss Del — 
hem! — Mrs. Fleming- wishes to get back as soon as 
possible.” 

'■'•Oh! well, if it is Mrs. Fleming’s wish, Mrs. Flem- 
ing’s wishes must be law, for the present at least,” said 
Mr. Kelso, good-humoredly. 

“ You will excuse us, then, and allow us to bid you 
good-night, even now.” 

Adrian shook hands with the minister, and Net put 
her little hand in Kelso’s broad one and murmured a 
gentle “ good-evening.” 

And they left the vicarage by the same rose-bordered 
walk and rustic gate through which they had entered it. 

Outside Adrian drew Net’s arm within his own, 
saying : 

“ At last ! at last ! my darling, you ai’e all my own, 
and no power on earth can part us ! Are you happy ?” 
he inquired tenderl)’-, pressing the little hand that lay 
on his arm. “Are you happy, dearest ?” 

“ Very happy,” murmured Net, in a low tone. 

“ Yet you do not seem like yourself, somehow. What 
is it, my own ? What makes you .so different ?” 

“Am I different ?” inquired the girl, in the same low, 
trembling voice. 

“ Yes, you seem so to me — very different from the 
bright, high-spirited, inspiring creature that I have 
known ! You are almost as sedate as your cou.sin ! 
But, I suppose, it is the situation ! You do not run 
away fifty miles by rail to be married between mid- 
night and morning every day ! In fact, you never did 
it before !” 

Net laughed a little low laugh and murmured her 
reply : 

“ Yes, it is in the circumstances, Adrian.” 

But Net was puzzled by his words. What did he 


192 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


mean by saying that she was almost as sedate as her 
cousin ? Antoinette was not sedate at all. She was 
the opposite. Oh, he was speaking sarcastically, of 
course. 

The road now became so rough that there was but 
little conversation while they picked their way over 
rugged crags and sharp stones, until they came in 
sight of the wayside station, before which a solitary 
lamp was burning. 

“ We must still be cautious. I will go in and get our 
tickets. You must remain without. And lest there 
should be any Miston people on the train, we must get 
into our carriage separately as we did before. Do you 
understand ?’' 

“ Perfectly.” 

As they drew near the station they saw a group of 
people apparently waiting for the train. 

Adrian Fleming went in and got the tickets and 
came out and rejoined Net, and whispered hastily : 

“ 1 will keep an eye on you, but we must not be sup- 
posed to be traveling in company. When the train 
comes get into one of the first-class carriages. I will 
watch and follow you as before. Ah ! here is the 
train.” 

Net hurried off and reached the spot just as the train 
came up. 

The guard, swinging on the steps of one of the car- 
riages, and seeing a young lady standing alone on the 
platform, 

“ In the dead waste and middle of the night/' 

immediately jumped down from his perch and came to 
her assistance. 

“ First class, if you please,” said Net. 

“ Oh ! And ladies’ carriage, of course. All right. 



iHK MAUHiAGK REGISTER.— i$'ee Page 190 






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net’s fate. 


193 


Miss, here you are,” he answered, opening a door and 
hoisting Net into a compartment in which there were 
five ladies, old and young, and but one vacant seat. 

Before Net could expostulate the door was shut, and 
the guard turned away to attend to another passenger. 

That passenger was Adrian Fleming, who had just 
come up. 

“ No, sir ; no room in the compartment ; every seat 
filled. Ladies’ carriage, sir. This way, .sir.” 

And the guard convoyed the young gentleman off in 
search of a seat somewhere else. 

Net sank back in her place, consoling herself with 
the thought that Adrian knew where she was, and 
would meet her at the Miston station. 

The train moved on. 

It was four o’clock now, and getting on towards day- 
light. The air was cool and pleasant, the motion of the 
cars swift and smooth. 

Soothed by both influences Net soon yielded to 
fatigue and drowsiness, and fell into a sleep that 
lapsed deeper and deeper as the hours passed on. 

She was not awakened even by the stopping of the 
train at the way stations and the getting in and out of 
passengers. 

She slept the sleep of a tired child, and the time was 
a blank to her until the train stopped at Miston station 
and the voice of the guard aroused her. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE DISCOVERY. 

Why Stand you thus amazed ? Methinks your eyes 
Are fixed in catalepsy, and you seem 
All turned into a senseless marble statue. 

As if your soul had suffered an eclipse 
Between your judgment and affection. 

SWETNAM. 

Talk not of comfort ! ’Tis for lighter ills! 

I will indulge my sorrows and give away 
To all the pangs and fury of despair ! 

Addison. 


“ Here you are, Miss ! Miston station !” 

Net awoke with a start from dreamless unconscious- 
ness, rubbed her eyes with her fists like any baby, and 
looked around her. The carriage was empty except of 
herself. Her fellow-travelers had got out at various 
way stations and had left her fast asleep. 

The sun was now about two hours high, and already 
shining hotly. 

Net looked around in wonder. She could not at once 
realize her situation ; but in a few seconds all flashed 
upon her memory. 

[194] 


THE DISCOVERY. 


195 


She had left Miston with Adrian Fleming at ten 
.o’clock on the preceding night, and now she had re- 
turned married to him ! 

A shaft of keen delight pierced her heart — delight so 
sharp as to be almost painful. She was married to 
Adrian, her own beloved, and her father’s approved ! 
United to him forever and ever ! No partings to dread 
now, for partings could only separate their mortal 
-frames, not their souls !, No rivals to dread now, for 
her beloved had given her the strongest proof of his 
undivided love ! He had chosen her to be his wife ! 
They were to belong to each other for time and for 
eternity. And, oh, how she would try to bless his life ! 
This seemed almost too much happiness to bear — too 
much happiness to last ! 

These blissful emotions of thought or feeling occupied 
but a few seconds, yet the guard exclaimed ; 

“ Look sharp. Miss, please ! Only half a minute to 
get out !” 

Net snatched up her traveling-bag, adjusted her 
vail, and gave her hand to the man, who helped her to 
descend. 

The next instant the train passed on out of the 
station. 

Standing on the platform. Net looked up and down 
for-Adrian, but could not see him. 

No one seemed to have got out at Miston except her- 
self. 

Could he have fallen asleep and gone on It really 
seemed as if he had. 

Well, if it were even so, it did not matter much. She 
was his own, and he would come back to her. He would 
wake up and get off at the first way station, and take 
the return train, and all would be right. 

Net was not concerned. Refreshed by her sleep, and 


196 THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 

/ 

delighted b)" the thought of her indissoluble union with 
Adrian, she stepped on lightly towards the rectory, not 
passing the village, but skirting its suburbs. 

She was drawing near the church-yard wall, when 
she heard footsteps behind her and a voice in her ear, 
saying : 

“ Darling of darlings, I have kept you in sight all the 
time ! You are safe now ! Hurry home as fast as you 
can and wait for me in the drawing-room. They will 
only think you have been out for a morning walk, I 
will follow you a little later with a string of fish in my 
hand. They will think I have been fishing. See ! I 
got this — caught it with a silver hook, as they say — 
bought it with half a crown from a fisherman,” 

And here Adrian held up a bunch of herring to her 
view. 

Net kissed her hand at him and hurried away. 

She entered the church-yard, looked up at the church 
clock and saw that it was half-past seven, and then 
crossed the yard and passed into the rectory grounds, 
where she saw her two babies at play, watched over by 
Kit. 

The children both ran to her, and she kneeled down 
on the ground, took off her vail and held out her arms 
that she might hug them both at once. 

Then Net left them and passed into the drawing- 
room, whose windows were now all open to admit the 
morning air. 

Adrian had asked her to wait there for him. She 
would do so. She would not even go to her room to 
take off her hat until she had seen him, for indeed, 
although it was now nearly ten hours since they had 
gone away together to be married, they had scarcely 
.seen each other, ” except through a vail darkly,” and 
had scarcely spoken to each other, except in hurried 


THE DISCOVERY. 


197 


and suppressed tones. Now she wanted to see him 
face to face without the obscuring vail between them. 
She wanted to read in his dear eyes the love that she 
was sure he felt for her. She wanted to tell him frankly 
and generously how happy he had made her, how de- 
lighted and thankful she was to be his chosen wife, how 
much she would try to be a blessing to him all his life. 
How much her dear step-father also honored and es- 
teemed him. She wanted to tell Adrian all this before 
they should be interrupted by the entrance of any one. 

Meanwhile Adrian Fleming walked slowly towards 
the rectory, his mind full of triumph in the enjoyment 
of his present happiness and in the anticipation of his 
future. 

“Yet Antoinette did not act at all like herself. She 
was more quiet than I ever knew her to be. However, 
I suppose marriage is always a serious affair, even to 
, the lightest hearted girl, especially under such circum- 
stances as attended our marriage. Besides, there was, 
in fact, no opportunity for free conversation, either on 
the journey or at the vicarage. I hope we shall have a 
chance for a good, satisfactory interview before Net 
Starr joins us !” 

So saying he entered the servants’ door at the back of 
the house, and with some ostentation gave his bunch of 
fish to Mrs. Ken, with the expressed hope that they 
were in time to be cooked for breakfast. 

Mrs. Ken meekly replied that she would try to dress 
them in time for his honor, since his honor had been at 
the pains to go out and catch them so early. 

Adrian then passed through the house and entered 
the drawing-room. 

A single glance showed him that the companion of his 
journey was the sole occupant of the room, and that he 
should have the conversation he coveted. 


198 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


The familiar brown-robed figure in the little brown 
straw hat stood at one of the windows, looking out. 
Her back was toward him as he entered softly. On the 
table near lay her small hand-bag, her gloves, and that 
thick brown vail which had played so important a part 
in the drama which was destined to have such a disas- 
trous effect on all Net’s future life. 

Adrian Fleming stepped softly and swiftly up behind 
her, and slipped his arm around her waist, saying : 

“ Darling of darlings, home safe. At last we belong 
to each other ! Oh, turn and let me gaze into your 
sweet eyes ! Let me press you to my heart !” 

Net turned, smiling, to meet his smiling face. 

“ Net Starr !” he exclaimed, starting violently and 
reeling back until he was stopped by the end of the 
piano, against which he leaned. 

“Yes, Net,’’ replied the girl, too much amazed to 
utter another word. 

“ What infernal masquerading is this ?’’ he demanded, 
fiercely. 

“ What do you mean, Adrian inquired the girl, 
trembling with fear that was all the more distres.sing 
because it was so vague. 

“ Were you the companion of my journey ? Tell me 
that instantly !’’ exclaimed the man, brutally. 

“Yes, Adrian — of course I was. You know I was,’’ 
replied Net, dropping into a chair, overcome with terror, 
as at some unconscious wrong, some impending peril. 

“ By Satan, I did not know it, or suspect it ! How 
dared you — how dared you play me such an accursed 
trick.? You have committed a crime! You have sub- 
jected yourself to a criminal trial and penal servitude 
for forgery. And, by all the fiends, I shall not spare 
you ! You shall be prosecuted according to law 
and shall suffer its utmost penalties !’’ he exclaimed, 


THE DISCOVERT. 


199 


furiously, gnashing his teeth between lips pale with 
rage. 

“ Oh, Adrian, what do you mean ? I do not under- 
stand you ! Of what do you accuse me ? Oh, gracious 
Heaven, what have I done ? Is this a nightmare ? Or 
have you suddenly lost your reason, Adrian ? Oh, I 
begin to fear you have ! I do not understand you, 
Adrian !” wailed Net, pressing her hands to her bewil- 
dered head. 

“ I do not understand you ! My words are plain 
enough ! I demand to know, and I will know, how you 
dared to play me the atrocious trick you have played ? 
How dared you commit the forgery that you have com- 
mitted t Tell me that !” exclaimed the man, gnawing 
his nether lip and clenching his hand. 

“ What trick ? Oh, merciful Heaven ! What forgery 
Oh, Adrian, are you going mad ? Is there madness in 
your family .? Oh, what is all this ? What cried Net, 
wringing her hands in anguish. 

“ You trifle with me ! Answer my questions ! How 
dared you play me such an infamous trick ? How dared 
you commit a forgery ?” he roared, stamping and foam- 
ing with passion. 

“All-pitiful Heaven ! I have played no trick ! I have 
committed no forgery !” exclaimed Net, now bursting 
into tears and weeping heavily. 

“ How dare you speak so falsely ? You have played 
a mean, shameful, disgraceful trick. You have com- 
mitted a felonious, fatal forgery !“ exclaimed Adrian, 
starting up and striding towards her with a menacing 
gesture. 

“ Oh, strike me ! Kill me, if you will ! I do not care 
to live ! But I have done you no wrong, Adrian ! I 
know that !” she moaned. 

He dropped his hand and strode away, muttering : 


200 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ If I am not mad, she will make me so !” 

Then, with a great effort, he controlled his furious 
passion from further outbreaks, and came back to her 
side, saying slowly, with bitter scorn : 

“ Was it not wrong, then — meanly, shamelessly wrong 
— for you to personate Miss Deloraine and go off with 
me to Scotland in the darkness of the night and marry 
me behind a vail, and even sign your cousin’s name in 
the parish register, and never reveal your true self to 
me until this hour ? Tell me that. Miss Starr V' 

While he spoke she met his eye, sorrowfully but 
fearlessly, as the truth, the explanation of all this 
trouble entered her tortured mind. 

“ Was this so ? Did I do all that, Adrian ?” she 
inquired, patiently. 

He made no reply, but turned away with a harsh and 
scornful laugh. 

“ Stop, Adrian !” she said. “ Stop and answer me ! 
Did you really take me for my cousin ?” 

“ Do you imagine that I should have married you 
else ?” he inquired, contemptuously. 

“ And do you think. Adrian, that I willfully deceived 
you ? Do you think I could have done so ?” 

“ I kno^v that you did. And I only wonder at the 
audacity, the insanity that led you to undertake such a 
deception, or to commit such a felony ! Did you not 
know that neither would avail you ? Did you not know 
that a marriage under a false name and under false 
pretences would be null and void ? Did you not know 
that you made yourself amenable to the criminal laws ! 
That you might be prosecuted for your offense, and 
condemned to penal servitude ? Or were you so 
blinded, so foolishly and fatally blinded by passion, 
self-will and immodesty, as to be dead to all the conse- 
quences of your crime?” exclaimed Adrian, struggling 


THE DISCOVERY. 


201 


with but ill success to keep down the surgiiipf of his 
fierce wrath. 

“You think me capable of committing a crime?” 
said Net, very quietly now. 

He turned on his heel contemptuously. 

“ Listen to me now, Adrian. Here has been some 
fatal mistake, for which I am no more to blame than 
yourself. Come here. I will show you what induced 
me to go to Scotland with you,” said Net, very patiently. 

He obeyed her, though in scornful incredulity. He 
stood by her side, watching her as she drew from her 
bosom, from its place next her faithful heart, the fatal 
letter that he had written to Antoinette, and that An- 
toinette had sent to her, and she put it in his hands, 
saying : 

“ Since you mistook me for my cousin, this letter 
must have been intended for her and not for me ; and 
it must have been placed by mistake in this envelope, 
which was directed to me. Perhaps you were writing 
to me at the same time that you were writing to Antoi- 
nette, and in your haste misplaced the letters, putting 
Antoinette’s into my envelope.” 

Adrian Fleming took the letter, stared in a state of 
stupefaction at the envelope, on which he recognized 
his own handwriting in the superscription to Net 
Starr. Then he drew out the letter, and recognized 
that as the one he had written to Antoinette Deloraine. 
He looked over it, and exclaimed : 

“ By Satan ! my own haste and carelessness has 
ruined us both ! Yes, this letter was intended for Miss 
Deloraine. I had written to you also, and I must — as 
you suggested — I must have misplaced the letters in 
the wrong envelopes.” 

“ I am very sorry, Adrian,” said Net, in a grieved 
tone. 


202 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ But” suddenly exclaimed Fleming, turning on her 
a keen and scrutinizing glance — “ had^v?« no doubt 
that this letter was intended lot you ?” 

“ No, Adrian, no. If you will recall the past — I do 
not like to allude to that ‘ past ’ now ; and I would not, 
except in self-justification, for I cannot bear that you 
should think for an instant that I would have forced 
myself on you, Adrian — but if you will recall the past, 
and remember all that we once were to each other, 
you will see how natural it was that I should think 
that letter which came directed to me was really 
intended for me. Every allusion in the letter, too, 
suited me, and there was not a word or name in it that 
could open my eyes to the truth that it was for my 
cousin and not for me.” 

“ And you really thought I wished to run away with 
you, and marry you ?” he asked with a fierce and scorn- 
ful laugh. 

” I am very, very sorry, Adrian,” she answered 
gently. 

” Of course, you know such a marriage is not at all 
binding.” 

” I — suppose it is not,” said Net. 

Y on ' suppose.’ You must know it is not. A mar- 
riage contracted under a false name — And by the way,” 
he exclaimed, as a sudden accession of scorn, anger and 
suspicion darkened his face, ” you might have been mis- 
taken in the letter, supposing it to be intended for 
yourself, but you could not have been mistaken in your 
own name ! You knew it was not Antoinette Delo- 
raine ! Yet that was the name you signed in the parish 
register ! I saw you do it i” 

After this vehement outburst there was an impressive . 
pause. Then Net said quietly : 

“There was no forgery, Mr. Fleming. My cousin’s 


THE DISCOVERT. 


203 


name and ni)’^ own are exactly the same. We are 
brothers’ children, named after our fathers’ mother, 
Antoinette Deloraine. You know that. If you will 
take time to consider, you will remember that I am 
only Dr. Starr’s step-daughter ; but, having been his 
step-daughter from the time I was five years old, I 
came to be called Net Starr by the servants and the 
neighbors. But my lawful name is Antoinette Delo- 
raine. And it was my own name that I signed in the 
parish register, and no forgery, Mr. Fleming.” 

She was interrupted by a loud, harsh, sardonic laugh 
— such a laugh that, in a woman, might have been 
called hysterical, and treated with a shower-bath from 
a pitcher of water. 

Net regarded him with pain and sorrow. 

“ I am only laughing at myself,” he cried, as soon as 
he could speak — “ laughing to think how egregiously I 
have entrapped myself ! I meant to have run away 
with Antoinette Deloraine and married her ! And — I 
did it ! We are fast married. Net ! Fast as church 
and state can marry us ! Oh, I wish you joy of your 
husband. Net !” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


LOST HOPE. 


Do not cheat her heart and tell her 
“ Grief will pass away, 

Hope for fairer times to-morrow, 

And forget to-day.” 

Tell her, if you will, that sorrow 
Need not come in vain ; 

Tell her that the lesson taught her 
Is worth all the pain ! 

. Adelaide Anne Proctor. 

Net was patient — very, very patient. From infancy 
she had been disciplined in sorrow, usefulness and 
endurance. 

At five years of age she had lost her beloved father, 
and had grieved for him with the sharp, if short-lived, 
sorrow of childhood. A few years after she had sus- 
tained the heaviest bereavement of her young life in 
the taking away of her adored mother, whom she had 
mourned with an anguish that approached despair. A 
little later on she had lost the lovely young being who, 
[204] 


LOST HOPE. 


205 


for three brief years, had been to her as sister, teaclier, 
mother, all in one ! And she had sorrowed for her, also, 
as the tender, loving-,' loyal heart can only sorrow. 

But she had never sat down in the selfish indulgence 
of feeling. 

She had roused herself to minister to the bereaved 
and the helpless. She had become the faithful little 
housewife of her widowed step-father, and the tender, 
nursing mother of the motherless infants. 

Thus Net had been trained to put away grief and to 
take up work ; to forget self and to care for others. 

In the present instance her self-forgetfulness may 
not have been very wise, but it was, as always, very 
loving. 

On hearing the bitter and sarcastic words of her 
newly-married husband, as recorded at the close of the 
last chapter. Net lost consciousness of all that was 
embarrassing and humiliating in her own position, and 
thought only of him, felt only for his disappointment 
and despair. 

“ Oh, Adrian !” she said — “ Oh, Adrian, I am so 
sorry ! What can be done ? Can anything be done ? 
I will join you in any plan that is not really wrong !” 

He answered with a bitter laugh, and then added : 

“ I don’t know that anything can be done yet ! We 
are married fast enough, I suppose. Married by mis- 
take ! At least I was ! I certainly did not mean to 
marry you, Net ! but decidedly meant to marry another 
woman whose name you unfortunately bear ! So the 
deed is done ! We are fast wedded as church and state 
can wed us !” 

“ But surely there must be some remedy in law and 
justice, for you ?" said the girl, gently, clasping her 
trembling hands. 

“ I don’t know ! The catastrophe — for it a catas- 


^06 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


trophe ! — is so sudden, so shocking, that I know not 
what to think, or say, or do ! If it had not been for 
your fatal likeness to your cousin and a combination of 
circumstances, completed by your identity of name, 
and that infernal vail, such a calamity could not have 
happened !” he exclaimed, beginning to lose his self- 
control again. 

“ Oh, Adrian ! Adrian ! think only of how it may be 
remedied !” prayed Net. 

“ I do not see how it can be — at present at least. 
The first thing must be an immediate separation. It 
will not do for you and me to remain in the same house 
together for a day !” 

Net grew a little paler than before and sat down. 
The thought of parting with Adrian pierced her bosom 
like a dagger. 

“ I shall set out immediately for Fleming Chase, and 
we must never meet again.” 

Net involuntarily crushed her hands together, but 
said nothing in reply. 

“ I must consult my father. No man was ever in 
such a deuce of a dilemma before ! Perhaps after a 
while, if it can be proved that the marriage was a mis- 
take on my part ; that we separated immediately after 
the ceremony, as soon as the mistake came to be dis- 
covered, and that we lived apart from that time — if it 
can be proved, in short, that our separation was in con- 
sequence of that grievous mistake and not the result of 
a quarrel, why, then, I suppose the law will release us.” 

“ I should suppose the law would in all cases do jus- 
tice,” said Net, in a low voice. 

“You should? That shows that you know nothing 
about it ! Law was once the science of justice, but 
now it is perverted into the art of injustice !” he 
impatiently exclaimed. 


LOST HOPE. 


207 


Her eyes were fixed on his angry face, piteously, 
pleadingly, feeling nothing, asking nothing for herself, 
but all for him. 

“ In any case, there will have to be a public trial — a 
divorce trial ! Always, and under all circumstances, 
disgraceful to both parties ! A trial that will create 
scandal ! And something far worse than scandal — 
ridicule. Why, they’ll say I was drunk ! blind drunk ! 
drunk as a fool ! so drunk I couldn’t see ! .so drunk I 
didn’t know one woman from another ! and so became 
the victim of a cunning and daring adventuress, who 
passed herself off upon me at the altar as my betrothed 
bride ! I shall be well laughed at in the clubs ! Well 
lampooned in the papers ! The illustrated periodicals 
•will make money out of it! The ‘Punch and Judy ’ 
will get hold of me ! The Theatre Comique and the 
Varieties will dran\atize me ! Sure to do it ! Oh, by 
all the demons !” exclaimed the young man, suddenly 
stopping in his stride up and down the room and seiz- 
ing his hair as if he would have torn it from his head — 
“ I do not know which is the worst ! — to wear these 
bonds forever, and through being so falsely wedded, 
doom myself to perpetual celibacy, or — to become the 
target of so much scandal and ridicule ! I must talk to 
the governor. Must make a clean breast of it to him. 
He won't ridicule me, poor old boy ! He may censure ; 
but he will not laugh ! Far from it ! He will — ” 

They were interrupted by the abrupt entrance of 
Kit. 

" Adrian suddenly became quiet. 

Net braced herself up. 

“ The breakfast bell hev rung twic’t. An’ t’ coffee ’s 
gettin’ cold, an’ t’ muffins fiat, an’ t’ omelette heavy as 
lead I” exclaimed Kit, sticking her arms akimbo as she 
stood within the door. 


208 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Where is Miss Deloraine ? Has she come down ?” 
inquired Net, by the way of saying something. 

“ Long ago I And waiting for her breakfast.” 

“ Very well. Bring in the coffee, I will come 
immediately,” said Net, rallying all her forces to sup- 
port her fainting heart and strength for the every-day 
duties of her life. 

Kit went out, leaving the door wide open, as was her 
careless fashion. 

” I cannot come to the breakfast table this morning ! 

I am not equal to it ! I am going now ! I shall not 
return. I will send a messenger for my clothes and 
other traps — and — I suppose I must write to Dr. Starr. 
Good-by !” exclaimed Adrian Fleming, seizing up his 
hat from -where he had cast it on the table, and strid- 
ing towards the door. 

“ Oh, not in that way ! Shake hands with me, 
Adrian. Let it be a kind good-by, even if it must be 
a lasting one,” said Net, in a broken voice, as she held 
out her hand to him. 

Her look, her tone, her words, penetrated the hard- 
ened selfishness of the man, and made him think of 
something more worthy of regret than his own griefs. 

He turned back and took her hand between both his, 
and looked pityingly on her patient face, as he said : 

“ Net, you know that after this foolish business we 
must part, and part forever. I am very sorry for you, 
poor little girl ! as well as for myself. It is almost as 
bad for you as it is for me — almost ! Good-by.” 

And he pressed her hand, and left the room and the 
house. 

Net stood still in the middle of the floor until she 
heard the approaching heavy steps of Kit, when she 
aroused herself and walked on. 

“ Oh ! yo ’re coming, are yo ? I was jest a-coming 


LOST HOPE. 


209 


after yo. Giving such lots of trouble a-keeping people 
a-waiting until the victuals is sp’iled. Wot hev come 
over yo, Mistress Net ? And— land o’ the leal ! how 
pale yo be ? So much for sitting up wi’ th’ sick in them 
damp, stuffy, musty cottages ! Yo ’ll hev the faver on 
yo and give it to the household, and yo don’t take care, 
Mistress Net !” said Kit. 

Net scarcely heard these words. She passed the 
speaker silently, and went into the dining-room and 
took her place at the head of the table. 

Net would rather have gone to her own room and 
locked the door, and given vent to the storm of pent- 
up grief in her oppressed bosom. But hers was a life 
of self-conquest, not of self-indulgence ; and only by 
the deadly paleness of her face, and the heavy dullness 
of her eyes might one suspect that all was not right 
with the girl. 

Antoinette Deloraine was there, looking grave and 
troubled, as she had a good right to be ; but she started 
when she saw the silent anguish of her cousin’s face. 

“ Are you not well this morning, Net ?” she kindly 
inquired. 

“ No, not very well. I have — I — I am sorry to have 
kept you waiting, Antoinette ; but take your seat ; I 
will pour out your coffee directly,” replied Net, trying 
to waive a cross-examination. 

“ Have you a headache, dear ?" persisted Miss Delo- 
raine, as she sat down at the table. 

“No, no headache; at least not much. Will you 
kindly pass the bread and butter to the children ; it is 
near you,” said Net, still parrying a catechism. 

“ Kit, wait on the children. What are you staring at 
demanded Miss Deloraine, as she passed the plate of 
buttered roils to the little ones. 

“ I 'm a looking at her, how white her is ! She hev 


210 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


got the sickness from the cottages — thet 's wot she hev 
gof! I hope it ’s the small-pox, and as it wull go through 
the house, I do!” exclaimed she of the red-headed tem- 
per. 

“ You horrible ghoul ! You ghastly vampire ! What 
do you mean by that? Why, I might get it myself!” 
said Antoinette, 

' “ And it is jest for your sake as I wush thet same ! 
Sp’iling some people’s beauty might save their souls !” 
retorted the Missing Link, 

” Bah ! What a fool you are ! Where is Mr. Fleming, 
and why don’t he come to breakfast ?” 

“ He hev gone away, looking loike some ’un hed 
choked him with breakfast or some’at enough to last 
him the rest o’ th’ day,” replied Kit. 

Miss Deloraine was satisfied. She desired to ask no 
more questions on account of Net’s pallor or Adrian’s 
absence. 

When the morning meal was .over. Net took the chil- 
dren with her and went up into the nursery, to begin 
her day's needle-work, to think quietly over her dis- 
appointment and humiliation, and also to avoid an inter- 
view with Miss Deloraine ; for Net felt that she could 
not stand another trial of questioning from her cousin. 

Antoinette, for her part, was equally reluctant to be 
privately interviewed by Net. Her guilty self-conscious- 
ness led her to dread being questioned. 

She was frighteqed at what she had done, more 
especially as she did not yet know what might be the 
extent of the mischief, or how far she herself might be 
amenable to law. 

She did not even know whether Adrian and Net were 
married or not married, or when or how the discovery 
of her deceptions had been made. And she was afraid 
to try to find out. ^ 


LOST HOPE. 


211 


At first, in the excitement of constructing her plot, 
she had hoped it would succeed to the extent of getting 
the pair fast wedded. 

Now she hoped that they were still free, so that her 
practical joke should not be past remedy. 

But in any case, she was determined never to admit 
that she herself had had anything to do with the cheat. 

She resolved to take the coward’s and felon’s line of 
defense and to deny everything that could not be 
proved ; but also to ward off the necessity of lying as 
long as she possibly could. 

To do so, she knew she must keep out of Adrian 
•Fleming’s sight as long as practicable. 

Antoinette, instead of going to the drawing-room, 
where she usually spent the first hours after breakfast 
at the piano, went and hid herself in her own room, 
with a book. 

In the meantime Adrian Fleming walked down to the 
Dolphin Inn, the best public house in the village, where 
he engaged a room for the day and ordered his break- 
fast. 

When it was ready he ate heartily with the appetite 
of a healthy young manhood, sharpened on this occa- 
sion by his long night’s journey, and by no means dulled 
b)’ the reflection that he had by his folly and selfishness 
spoiled the life of one whose pure, unselfish love he had 
won. 

After breakfast he lighted his cigar and walked down 
to the beach to reflect upon the mischance that had 
befallen, as to how it could have occurred, and how he 
should get out of it with the least trouble. 

First, as to how it could have happened that he 
should have put the note intended for Miss Deloraine 
into Net’s envelope, and the one meant for Net into 
Miss Deloraine’s. 


212 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Solitude and the cigar helped him to a clearer recol- 
lection of the hour in which he wrote the letters, and he 
now felt sure that he wrote and enveloped Antoinette’s 
letter before he even thought of writing one to Net. 
The latter \vas an after consideration, and he wrote it 
and enveloped it, and then wrote a postscript on a half- 
sheet of note paper, and folded it and put it in with 
Antoinette’s letter and then enclosed both in a large 
envelope. He remembered this so distinctly now that 
he felt certain that no mistake was made by him, and 
that no mistake could have occurred without foul play. 

But foul play by whom? That was the question ! 

Not by Kit, for however mischievous and monkeyish . 
the Missing Link might be, he knew that she had played 
no tricks with those letters, for he had given them to 
her in the hall and watched her from the staircase until 
she had safely delivered them to Miss Deloraine. 

Not by Net. She could have had no opportunity of 
tampering with the letters or their envelopes. He ac- 
quitted her of all suspicion here, at least. 

By whom then had the letters been changed ? 

Whom did this process of proving by exclusion leave 
exposed as the only possible guilty party ? Why, An- 
toinette Deloraine, of course ! 

He had fallen out of favor with her, and she had 
lately treated him with cool contempt that he could not 
believe in. And, last of all, he had mortally offended 
her by the rudeness of his caresses. 

And now, so far from having been appeased by his 
contrite confession of wrong-doing, his humble prayer 
for forgiveness, his earnest declaration of love, and his 
frank proposal for immediate marriage, she had 
despised, condemned and scorned his overtures, and 
had turned and entrapped him to his ruin ! She had 
done this for fun, for malice, and for sensation. She 


lost hope. 


213 


must have been a very demon incarnate, when moved 
by these motives, to do such a deed. 

She had even artfully come to the door of the study 
and handed him a note, saying that he was “ loved too 
fondly not to be forgiven freely,” and that he should 
be met at the time and ‘place appointed, but he must go 
away and keep out of sight all day for prudence sake, 
or some such pretext. Ah ! that advice was given lest 
he should meet Net, and by some chance word from the 
unsuspicious girl discover the trap that had been set for 
them both. ^ 

And how perfectly she had succeeded ! 

Even the sedative influences of solitude and a cigar 
were not potent enough to keep his hot blood from 
kindling into a passion at this discovery. He threw 
away his weed and strode up and down on the sands, 
venting his anger in expletives utterly unreportable 
here, and calling his lady-love names — well, the very 
opposite of “ angel,” “ darling,” “ beloved,” “ adored," 
“ worshiped,” and so forth. 

“ For to be wroth with one we love 
Doth work like madness in the brain.” 

And Adrian was, or fancied himself, very much in love 
with Antoinette, and now he was very mad with her. 

“ I said I would never return to the rectory again. I 
told Net so. But I will go once more. I will go once 
more. I will confront Antoinette with the charge of 
the bitter, irredeemable wrong she has done me. I will 
expose her wickedness to Dr. Starr. Such a woman 
ought to be exposed and severely punished, if there be 
any law to punish her.” 

So saying he turned away from the beach, and 
walked rapidly on through the little fishing village, and 
up the hill to the rectory. 


'214 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


The hall door stood open, as it nearly always did in 
the summer, and Net’s babies were playing on the stoop. 

He passed them, and strode into the drawing-room, 
where he expected to find Miss Deloraine. 

She was not there> however, so he rang the bell and 
brought Kit to his presence. 

“ Give my compliments to Miss Deloraine, and say 
that I solicit the favor of a few moments’ conversation 
with her.” 

“ Do yo mean that yo want to jaw with her ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Oh ! I thought thet wur wot yo meant, but I 
wurn’t sure, with all your big words. I wull tell her.” 
And Kit’s red head and handsome form vanished from 
the room. 

Fleming paced up and down the drawing-room, until, 
“ Nursing his wrath to keep it warm,” 

Kit re-appeared and reported as follows ; 

“ She says : ‘ No, she wunnot,’ or summut o’ the 

^ame sort meaning the loike.” 

“She did.? Well, stop a moment. Don’t go yet. 
You will take a little note from me to Miss Deloraine,” 
said Adrian, in a conciliating tone. 

“ Yo ’ll mek it a short one, then, for my toime is not 
my own, and I hev got summut else to do besoides 
carrying o’ love-letters.” 

Adrian had meanwhile taken his tablets from his 
pocket, and written. 

“ Miss D. — Shall we parley, or shall I summon you 
before a magistrate ?” 

It was a very brutal note for a gentleman to write to 
a lady ; but then Adrian Fleming was mad. 

Kit took it off and left the writer to resume his wild 
walk up and down the drawing-room until her return. 


A STORMY INTERVIEW. 


215 


“ She’ll come, she says. And whoy she couldn’t hev 
said so before is more then I know,” was Kit’s second 
report, as she put her red head in at the door to deliver 
this message, and then disappeared. 

“ Oh ! ‘ She’ll come,’ ” said Adrian Fleming to him- 

self. “Well, I thought that hint would bring her.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

A STORMY INTERVIEW. 

Glad of a quarrel, I clap to the door ! Pope. 

I thought your love eternal ; was it tied 
So loosely that a quarrel could divide ? 

Dryden. 

He had scarcely laughed over this conclusion before 
Antoinette Deloraine entered the room, threw herself 
into an arm-chair, and, with a haughty air, demanded : 

“ What is your business with me, sir, that you insist 
on an interview ?” 

Adrian Fleming came and stood before her, and 
answered, sternly : 

” My business with you. Miss Deloraine, is to demand 
by what right you have treated my letter to you, con- 
taining a frank confession of wrong and plea for par- 
don, and an honest declaration of love and proposal of 
marriage — a letter that might have won the sympathy 
and respect of any good woman, even though it could 
not gain her affections or her hand — by what right, I 
demand, have you treated such a letter with more than 
disdain — with actual dishonesty, by 'artfully placing it 


216 


THE SKELETON IN THE CI-08ET. 


in the envelope of the letter directed in my handwrit- 
ing to Miss Starr and intrusted to you ? Why have 
you so treacherously betrayed your trust and entrapped 
me to my ruin ? Why have you — ” 

“ Stop !” exclaimed Miss Deloraine, haughtily. 

He started as at the report of a pistol. 

She had been gazing on him while he spoke with an 
air of amazement, and now, in the single word .she 
uttered, her tone had the ring of command which 
instantly silenced her accuser. 

“ Are you a lunatic ?” she continued, fastening her 
eyes sternly on his face. “ IV^af declaration of love, or 
wAat proposal of marriage have you dared to write to me 
after your outrageous conduct in the garden ?” 

“ This !” he exclaimed, somewhat startled and daunted 
by her words and manner, but determined to brave it 
out — as he drew from his breast-pocket the letter given 
him by poor Net as a proof of her innocence, and 
threw it into Miss Deloraine’s lap. 

“ This? ’ she said, in a tone of contemptuous incre- 
dulity. “ Why, this is the very letter that you gave me 
to give to Net ! I recognize it, because I read it. You 
wrote in your postscript that I might read it, you know !” 

Adrian Fleming’s handsome lip curled with scorn. 

“ I do not like to contradict a lady” he said, “ but I 
pray you to listen to this : I wrote this letter io you and 
put it in an envelope before I thought of writing one 
to Net, and after 1 had written to Net and put her 
letter in a second envelope, I wrote the postscript on a 
half-sheet of note-paper and put it in with your letter.” 

“ Or, you think you did, my honest friend !” said Miss 
Deloraine, sarcastically, as a sharp thought of a way of 
escape from conviction entered her mind. 

“What do you mean by that?” demanded Mr. 
Fleming. 


A STORMY INTERVIEW. 


217 


“ I mean this : you certainly did not put the postscript 
in the same envelope with the first letter that you 
wrote, and you certainly did put it in the second 
letter ! And the first letter that you say was intended 
for me, was most assuredly directed to Miss Starr, 
while the second letter, with the short postscript, was 
directed to me.” 

Adrian Fleming made a fierce gesture of impatience. 

“ Have I not told you that I wrote and enveloped the 
letter to you before I began the letter to Miss Starr ?” 
he demanded. 

“ Yes, my excited friend, you have told me that sev- 
eral times. It grows monotonous.” 

“ Then how was it possible such a mistake could have 
occurred ?” 

“ You might have directed them wrong after they were both 
e7iveloped. You must have done so indeed, since there 
is no other way of accounting for the mistake !” 

“ By all the furies, that was it !” exclaimed Adrian 
Fleming, dashing his open hand against his forehead — 
“ that was it ! — I remember that I did not direct any of 
the envelopes until the postscript was written, and I 
must have misplaced that and misdirected the other. 
Was ever such atrocious carelessness !” 

“ Well, my friend, I hope this will teach you not to 
assail ladies with dishonorable charges except upon 
surer evidence,” said Antoinette, coolly. ” But there,” 
she added, generously, “ I will pardon you, unasked, 
for 1 know how excessively exasperating it must be to 
run away with the wrong woman, especially if you 
happen to have married her as well ! But you did not ? 
It was not so bad as that ! You discovered your mis- 
take in time !” 

Adrian Fleming made a inovemenL'of desperation, 
exclaiming ; 


218 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ No ! I did not discover my mistake in time ! 
Thinks to her fatal resemblance to yourself and a 
cursed brown vail that she wore all the time, and the 
darkness of the night, and the presence of that old 
nuisance. Dr. Bennet, that prevented all conversation 
between us, and other atrocious complications, we were 
fast married, and although she 74.'^!^ the wrong person, 
yet, as her name is identical with yours, she was not 
married under a false name, and therefore the marriage 
is as lawful and binding as church and state can make 
it !” fiercely exclaimed Adrian Fleming. 

Antoinette was shocked, deeply shocked, at the result 
of her reckless plot ; yet the desperate-looking bride- 
groom and the ludicrousness of his position appealed 
so strongly to her sense of humor that she burst out 
laughing and the more offended he looked the more she 
laughed. 

“ I beg your pardon, Adrian,” she said, more kindly 
than she had yet spoken to him. “ I am very sorry, but 
I could not help laughing. Indeed I could not. If it 
had been my own brother, or my own father, in such an 
absurd position, I must have laughed first, however I 
may have sympathized afterwards.” 

‘‘ Miss Deloraine, you have evidently no sympathy 
whatever for me in my painful position. I wish I could 
say with equal truth you have no responsibility for it !” 
said Adrian Fleming, with more self-possessed dignity 
than he had yet shown. 

” What now ? I thought you knew the misfortune 
was due to your own mistake,” she said. 

” So far as misplacing and misdirecting the letters, 
but no farther ! Net Starr got the letter intended for 
you, which was so unfortunately worded as to deceive 
her. But you, Miss Deloraine, with all the letters before 
you, and with the privilege given you to read them all. 


A STORMY INTERVIEW. 


219 


must have found something- in some of them to open 
your eyes to the truth, or at least to create such a doubt 
in your mind as should have led you to submit them all 
to me before acting upon any of them.” 

‘‘ In-deed!" exclaimed Antoinette, ironically. “ I, a 
young lady, should have taken this wonderful love-let- 
ter of yours and said to you in effect : ‘ Oh, if you please, 
sir, didn’t you mean to ask 7ne to run away with you, 
instead of Net Starr ?’ — Not likely I should have done 
that !” 

Adrian Fleming turned away with a gesture of angry 
-impatience. 

“ But at any rate I can assure you that there was not 
a word in any of the letters that could have ‘ opened my 
eyes to the truth, or created any doubt in my mind,’ 
unless it was a doubt of the sanity of their writer, and 
of course one and all must have had that effect on any 
reasonable mind,” continued Antoinette. 

“ I should like to look a those other letters, just to 
see what I did write,” said Adrian, in a despairing tone. 

“ I am sorry you cannot, for I burned them up ; but 
I can tell you what was in them. In your letter directed 
to me you announced your engagement to ‘ our mutual 
friend,’ by which I understood Net. And you said you 
were going to Fleming Chase, and asked me if I had 
any commissions in Devonshire that you could execute 
for me — a perfectly natural piece of courtesy addressed 
to me, for my estates lie near your father’s. That was 
all.” 

“ Did I not mention any name in the letter ?” 

“None but the names of places, that told nothing.” 

“But the postscript — what did that say?” 

“ Requested me to read the letter addressed to Miss 
Starr, and then to give it to her with my own hands. 
‘Only that, and nothing more.’ ” 


220 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ What an infernal fatality ! But, Miss -Deloraine, 
your note to ine, handed me by yourself at the study 
door ?” said Adrian, with a keen look into her eyes. 

“ Well, you have got that, of course. Refer to it, if 
you wish,” said Antoinette, artfully refraining from 
committing herself by any statement of its contents 
until she should discover whether he had possession 
of it. 

‘‘ No, I have not got it. I burned it up. But I know 
it was your expression of forgiveness and acceptance 
and consent to meet me at the appointed place and 
time,” he said, looking at her keenly. 

“For Net, not for myself, you gander! You had 
taken me — or I supposed you had taken me into your 
confidence by asking me to read that letter and then to 
give it to Net — which I did. Then, in my note to you, 
I told you that you were forgiven ; that you were loved 
too deeply not to be forgiven freely ; and that the com- 
panion of your journey would meet you at the specified 
time and place — meaning Net all the time ! As, of 
course, I thought you knew !” said Antoinette, as if she 
were weary of the discussion. 

“The most fatal complication of mistakes I ever 
heard of in my life !” groaned Adrian, 

“ The most complete ‘ comedy of errors,’ you mean ; 
and the worst of it is, that you cannot have the satis- 
faction of blaming anybody but yourself !” said Miss 
Deloraine, still much inclined to laugh, but repressing 
the inclination. 

As for Adrian Fleming, he stood now overwhelmed 
with humiliation and despair at the doubly painful and 
absurd position in which he had placed himself, as the 
bridegroom in a mistaken marriage, and as the accuser 
of Miss Deloraine upon false grounds. 

Now, also, came a strong reaction of his affections. 


A STORMY INTERVIEW. 


221 


With the disappearance of his doubts concerning 
Antoinette his anger against her subsided ; and with 
the revival of his confidence his love rekindled. 

“Yes, it is true ! I have only myself to blame !” he 
moaned, in a voice of mortification and despondency. 
“ But oh, Antoinette, how much misery and desolation 
I have brought upon myself ! That letter — that 
petition for pardon and acceptance — you now know was 
intended for you ! It was you only whom I loved and 
do love, and must ever love ! Oh, my beloved ! Give 
me some little hope to keep me from dying of despair ! 
After this day I shall never see Net Starr — ” 

“ Net Fleming,” amended Miss Deloraine. 

“ ‘ Net Fleming,’ then,” assented Adrian, in a hope- 
less tone, being too utterly humbled and depressed to 
take any exeeption to Antoinette’s eorreetion — “ ‘ Net 
Fleming,’ I have taken my last leave of her to-day. In 
a short time I shall take measures to have this false 
and most preposterous marriage dissolved by law, and 
then, my only beloved, I will lay my recovered freedom, 
my heart, my hand, and all I possess at your dear feet. 
Oh, Antoinette ! May I take away with me the hope 
that you will then bless my life w’ith your peerless 
self V' he pleaded, taking her hand and gazing into her 
eyes. 

Miss Deloraine’s long threatening fit of laughter now 
burst forth in irrepressible power. Snatching her hand 
from his, she fell back in her chair and laughed until 
the tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. 

“ If this were not so supremely absurd it would be 
profoundly immoral and unpardonably insulting !” 
she said, as soon as she could speak. “ Here is a man 
who ran away with, and married, one woman last 
night, making a deelaration of love and proposal of 
marriage to another woman this morning.” 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


009 


Adrian Fleming, pallid with passion, turned away 
in silence to leave the room. 

“ Come back,” said Miss Deloraine. “ I have some- 
thing to say to you.” 

He came back and stood before her, mute and moody. 

“ I ought to tell you that this marriage of yours can 
make no difference in our relations to each other. We 
have always been frieiids, and shall continue to be 
friends. Nor can a dissolution of that marriage make 
any such difference. We have never been more than 
friends, and we never can be more than friends.” 

“ You give me no hope to save my life from sinking 
into ruin !” groaned Adrian. 

“ No, no hope ; not the least. It is better to be per- 
fectly plain with you, Mr. Fleming. I never cared 
enough for you to marry you, and I never can do so.” 

“You love some one else then exclaimed Adrian, 
grinding his teeth under his white lips. 

“ That is a most unwarrantable question. Yet I will 
answer it truly. I love no one else, in your sense of the 
word. I do not think there is any such love in my 
nature. Gentlemen are not at all attractive except in 
so far as they amuse me, and not much even in that way. 
I shall never marry for love. I shall marry for rank 
and title.” 

“ These, at least, I can give you. I am the heir of my 
father’s baronetcy, you know,” ventured Adrian. 

“ That might be all very well as far as it goes ; and if 
I fail to win a duke, a marquis, an earl, viscount or 
baron, I might in future years, when my youth shall have 
waned, be compelled by circumstances to accept a bar- 
onet ; but not otherwise ; and not certainly a baronet 
who has figured in such an absurd adventure as yours. 
I repeat that it is best to be plain with you, Mr. Fleming, 
even though I should seem rude.” 


A STORMY INTERVIEW. 


223 


Again the affronted lover started to leave the room, 
and again, Miss Deloraine recalled him. 

“ Will you take a little wholesome advice from my 
lips ? Think of Net as the future companion of your 
life. You cannot do better, or as well. You have mar- 
ried her. Her birth is as good as mine, we being 
brothers’ children, and in the event of my death, unmar- 
ried, she would be the heiress of Deloraine Park. She 
is, besides, one of the loveliest young women in person 
and character that I have ever known. Take her, 
Adrian. Give her a chance to win your whole heart, 
and my word for it, she will make you very happy 
in the end,” said Antoinette, earnestly, warming with 
her theme. 

“ Have you done ?” growled the young man. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Will you let me go now ?” 

“ With pleasure.” 

“ Then good-by !” 

And he flung himself out of the room in a tumult of 
contending passions — love, anger, shame and despair. 

“ Well,” said Miss Deloraine to herself, as soon as she 
was alone, “it is said that Satan helps his own, so I 
must belong to Satan, since I have got out of this horrid 
scrape so much more easily than I had hoped to do. 
But, oh, at what a cost of lying ! And so they are mar- 
ried and parted, all within twelve hours ! And that 
reticent imp. Net, never gave me a hint of it. All right ! 
I would rather not talk of it, I am sure ! Satan’s own 
as I must be, I had rather not tell more lies than I can 
avoid ! So, if Net says nothing to me about her mar- 
riage, I shall certainly say nothing to her. Heigh-ho ! 
I wonder what will be the end of it all ?” so sighing. 
Miss Deloraine sat down at the piano, opened it, selected 


224 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


a piece of difficult music that she had been practicing 
for the last few days and began to play. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

THE rector's RETURN. 

In all his wanderings round this world of care, 
in all his grief — and God had given his share — 

He still had hopes, his latest hours to crown, 

Amidst those humble bowers to lay him down 
To husband out life’s taper at its close. 

And keep the flame from wasting by repose. 

Goldsmith. 

Net sat in the front porch waiting until the clock 
struck five. She had sent the stable-boy with the gig to 
meet the rector at the station, for the latter was ex- 
pected to arrive at five o’clock. . 

Then, as if fired by a sudden impulse, she started up 
and hurried into her father's study, seized Adrian Flem- 
ing’s letter to the rector, that lay upon the table among 
others that had come for him during his absence, and 
hid it between the leaves of a book on the shelves. 

“ Father shall not see this sleep-destroying document 
to-night, at any rate. After his long journey he must 
be permitted to rest well ; and to-morrow, when he has 
had his breakfast, I will give it to him,” she said, as 
she glanced around the room to see that all was right. 
“ And now,” she continued, as she left the study, “ I 
must warn Antoinette. I do not know how much she 
may know or suspect, of last night’s misfortune ; but 
she must not be permitted to drop a word or a hint 
that may disturb my father’s peace to-night.” 


THE rector’s return. 


225 


With this Net ran upstairs and knocked at Miss Delo- 
raine’s door, 

“ Who’s there ?” inquired Antoinette’s voice from 
within. 

“ It is I,” said Net 

“Come in, then. You might have come without 
knocking !” 

Net opened the door and entered the chamber, where 
she found Miss Deloraine standing before the glass, 
putting the last touches to her toilet by pinning flowers 
on her bosom and in her hair, 

“ Antoinette,” began the girl, sitting down on a chair, 
resting her elbow on the table, and looking wistfully in 
her cousin’s face — “ Antoinette, if you know anything 
the hearing of which might disturb my father’s peace, 
do not be betrayed by thoughtlessness into any allu- 
sion to the subject. Father is old ; he has had a very 
fatiguing journey, and he must sleep to-night. To- 
morrow morning after breakfast, when he has been 
refreshed by rest and food, it will be time enough to 
tell him bad news.” 

When Net had begun to speak Miss Deloraine had 
expected the disagreeable accusation she had so long 
dreaded, and saying mentally, “ Now for it,” had 
braced herself for the battle. But before Net had fin- 
ished she found herself strangely puzzled by the girl’s 
words and manner. Net evidently had not come to 
make a charge or to demand an explanation, but to 
ask a favor. She did not look belligerent, or even sus- 
picious, yet her words w’ere strange. Did the rector’s 
daughter suspect that she knew anything about the 
secret marriage ? She would test the question imme- 
diately. 

“ You must tell me plainly what subjects I must avoid 
before I can hope to profit by your warning, Net. I 


226 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


might Stumble upon the very theme most to be depre- 
cated. They say we must never allude to ropes in the 
presence of a man whose father has been hanged, but, 
you see, one may not always know but that the man's 
father died in his bed, in an odor of sanctity. You 
must tell me plainly what you mean, dear.” 

“ Then I beg you to avoid the subject of — Adrian 
Fleming.” The name almost choked Net. 

“ ‘ Avoid the subject of Adrian Fleming ?’ Certainly, 
if you say so,” replied Antoinette, beginning to sing an 
old love-song — 

“Oh, no, we never mention him, 

His name is never heard ; 

Our lips are now forbid to speak 
That once familiar word.” 

“ That is all, cousin, I thank you. Oh ! if my father 
opens the subject and asks for Adrian, as he will be 
sure to do, leave me to answer him,” added Net. 

“ With the greatest pleasure in life. It will relieve 
me of an embarrassment,” replied Miss Deloraine. 

Net arose to go, but as she did so she caught the eyes 
of Antoinette fixed sympathetically, sorrowfully upon 
her, and in that instant Net felt sure that Miss Delo- 
raine knew her secret. 

Antoinette was a mixture of good and evil too com- 
mon to be strange. She was affectionate, benevolent 
and generous ; but she was irritable, timorous and 
untruthful. 

She was suffering now from remorse and compassion 
on account of Net, She wished very deeply to make 
amends, if she could do it without hurting herself. She 
wished to comfort Net, but she could not confess to 
her. 


THE rector’s return. 


227 


The girls looked into each other’s eyes an instant, and 
then Antoinette said : 

“ Net, dear, I see that you don’t want to quarrel with 
me, as Adrian did. But you don’t know anything about 
that yet. You don’t want to quarrel with me, Net ; but 
do you want to confide in me, darling ?” 

“ I think you know all that I could tell you,” replied 
the girl, gently. 

“ Pretty much. I know that you were married on 
Thursday evening to Adrian Fleming by mistake.” 

“ Yes,” breathed Net, sinking back in her chair. 

“ And I know that this mistake originated in my 
gentleman’s having two strings to his bow and misplac- 
ing and misdirecting two love-letters that he was writ- 
ing to two ladies in the same hour. The one to me was 
a proposal of marriage directed to you ! You fell into 
the pitfall accidentally made for you, poor little soul, 
and you were married by mistake ' And as my fine 
gentleman discovered his mistake he threw you off, 
insulted everybody right and left, and bolted for Devon- 
shire !” 

“ How did you know this ?” inquired Net, in a very 
low voice. 

“ He told me all ! He came here about noon on Fri- 
day, assailed me with abuse, accused me of tampering 
with the letters and transposing them with my own 
hands.” 

“ 0-h-h-h ! Adrian must indeed have been almost 
insane to have charged you with such a dishonorable 
act !” cried Net with a genuine shudder of moral horror. 

Antoinette winced under it. It was dreadful to see 
her sin through Net’s clear, pure eyes. 

“Yes,” she said, rallying her spirits. “And he 
threatened to prosecute me ! But I soon showed him 
the impossibility of my having done such a deed as 


228 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


that ! Moreover, I told him if his complimentary pro- 
posal had reached my hands, I never could have com- 
plied with it. He went away very much ashamed of 
himself when he found out that he had charged me 
falsely and had only his own carelessness to blame for 
his misfortune — if it was a misfortune ! / consider it a 

peace of unmerited good luck !” 

“ Had it pleased Heaven, I had rather died than this 
should have happened !” breathed the girl. 

“ What ! and leave the poor babies orphans ? Noth- 
ing of the sort. Net ! It does not please Heaven nor 
earth that you should die ! You shall live. Net. to 
bring that scornful young husband of yours to your 
feet yet !” 

“ Oh, no, no, no ! This ceremony must not hold him 
in bondage ! He says the law can free him, and it 
must !,” 

“ The law will do no such a thing ! The law won’t 
annul a marriage except for crime. That is certain. I 
wonder a man of his knowledge did not know that much . 
No, Net, you are safe to be Lady Fleming, No earthly 
power — not even your self-sacrificing spirit driven by 
my gentleman’s dominant will — can prevent that. You 
will be Lady Fleming.” 

“ Oh, I never cared for that ! I never cared for wealth, 
or rank, or title ! I only cared for Adrian — for himself. 
If he had been the poorest curate that ever starved on 
thirty pounds a year, I should have loved him all the 
same !” 

“ No, you wouldn’t. For, in such circumstances, he 
would have been a better man than he is now, and you 
would not have loved him at all. People love their 
opposites, it is said. You, being a little angel, must 
love a fellow with a strong spice of mischief in him, like 
Mr. Adrian Fleming. And that is all right.” 


THE rector’s return. 


229 


Net had again got up to leave the room. She paused 
only to hear her cousin out, and then she went away. 

As she passed down stairs she happened to look from 
a window at the turn of the staircase, that commanded 
a view of the churchyard. 

And there she saw a tableau that startled her, 

~ It was Kit o’ Jim — it was her Missing Link — in close 
conversation with a gentleman, and that gentleman 
proved, on inspection, to be Mr. Brandon Coyle, whom 
Net and all the neighborhood supposed at that time to 
be in London with his sister and their uncle. 

Their attitude, too, was distressing to Net. 

Kit stood fronting this side of the house, with her 
white apron rolled awkwardly up over her fine round 
arms, her handsome, blushing face bent down until her 
chin touched her heaving bosom, and her lovely blue 
eyes lowered until their eyelashes shaded her blooming 
cheeks, while around all hung down her glorious hair 
like a shower of meteors as it sparkled in the sun’s rays. 
Beside her, and a little behind her, stood Brandon Coyle, 
with his arm about her waist and his head bent to her 
bosom, and his lips too near her cheek. 

This must be stopped. Net knew. 

The rector’s little daughter, in her daily visits among 
the poor, had learned enough of the evil that comes 
of gentlemen courting poor cottage girls and female 
servants. 

She leaned from the window and raised her young 
voice until it rang like a sea-captain’s from his quarter- 
deck : 

“ Kit !” 

The pair sprang apart as if a bombshell had fallen 
between them, and Kit began to jump over the mounds 
and run home as fast as she could come, while Brandon 
Coyle turned and walked away in the opposite direction. 


230 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Net went down into the kitchen, and met Kit as the 
latter came in at the back door. 

“ Who was that you were talking with in the church- 
yard ?” inquired Net, asking a very natural but very 
unnecessary question, since she had already recognized 
Kit’s companion. 

“ Sure he were Corle, as yo mought o’ seen for yoself 
if yo hed oyes. Mistress !” answered Kit, rather pertly. 

“ What was he saying to you ?” gravely demanded 
the little mistress of the rectory. 

“ Oh, Oi dunnot know ! Just some o’ his nonsense,” 
replied the girl, blushing deeply. 

“ Kit,” said the little mammam, very solemnly, “ I 
warn you not to let gentlemen talk nonsense to you. 
It will bring you to evil. Kit ! — to bitter, bitter sin and 
woe !” 

“ Dunnot yo fear. Mistress Net. Oi.ken tak’ keer o’ 
meself,” said the Missing Link proudly. 

Net might have gone on with her catechism and 
exhortation, had not the sound of wheels reached her 
ears. 

She turned quickly and ran into the front hall, and 
opened the door in time to see the gig draw up and 
the minister, looking tired and harassed, descend to the 
ground. 

” Oh-h-h-h ! I’m so glad to see you, dear father ! It 
seems as if you had been gone a month ! Come ! 
Come in. Give me your hat ; give me your umbrella. 
There ! Come right into your room ! Everything is 
ready for you.” 

This was all rather gushing for the quiet, self-re- 
pressed Net, but then she had been so sorely tried dur- 
ing her father’s absence, and she had wanted him so 
much. 

The pleasure of meeting him had brought a transient 


THE rector’s return 


231 


color to her pallid cheeks and light to her heavy eyes, 
so that the rector did not perceive the sad change that 
had passed over his child. 

“ I am glad to get home again, my dear, and very glad to 
see you, my little ‘ angel of the household.’ Well, Net, 
is all well with the family ?" he inquired as he entered 
his chamber, which was on the ground floor in the rear 
of his office. 

“ We are all in our usual health, dear father.” 

“ And my dear boy ? My Adrian ? My future son-in- 
law ?” said the rector, as he sank into his big arm-chair. 

Net walked to the window and made an effort with 
trembling hands to draw the white curtain to soften the 
bright blaze of the sun, as she answered in a low voice : 

“ He — he is not here. He has gone to Fleming 
Chase.” 

“ Gone to Fleming Chase ! That is very odd, isn’t 
it, when I left him here in charge of the house 

“ He — I — his father wrote for him.” 

“ Net ! what is the matter with you, my dear ? 
Turn around here and let me look at you. Why, you 
are as pale as a ghost ! And you tremble so you can 
scarcely stand ! Net, tell me ! Had Adrian written to 
his father to sanction his engagement to you, and had 
Sir Adrian written back and forbidden the marriage, 
and ordered him home ?” demanded the minister, frown- 
ing heavily. 

“ Oh, no, dear - father, nothing of the sort,” replied 
Net, struggling to regain her self-command. “ The 
baronet wrote for him to come immediately and help 
to entertain a midsummer party of visitors that were 
assembled at the Chase.” 

“ Oh ! and you are distressed at the separation ?” 

“Yes,” answered Net, ‘“distressed at the separa- 
tion.’ ” 


232 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


And losing all self-control at the thought of how 
much more dire, more lasting, and more fraught with 
misery than her father deemed this separation really 
was, Net burst into tears and sobbed convulsively. 

“ Oh ! the little cry-baby ! Come to its daddy and 
be comforted !” exclaimed the rector, half in sympathy, 
half in raillery, as he opened his arms to receive her on 
his bosom, and while he held her head to his heart and 
smoothed her dark hair with his hand. Net sobbed her- 
self into quietude. 

Then she wiped her eyes and kissed her father’s 
dear hands, and said, as she arose : 

“ How wrong of me ! how wrong to do this, the very 
hour of your return ! To be overcome by my own self- 
ish feelings when I should have felt only for you and 
your needs ! You told us once that ‘there must be a 
resurrection from self before there could be a resur- 
rection unto life.’ But oh ! dear father, does it not 
take all one’s days on earth to rise above self ? I will 
not worry you any more now. Here is your hot water, 
and here are your clean clothes, and now I will leave 
you to dress yourself. How soon will you be ready for 
dinner ?” 

“ In twenty minutes, my dear. Poor child ! It was 
a little trying that your lover should be called away 
just after your old father had gone off. But I have a 
piece of wonderful news for you, Net.” 

“‘News’ — for father?” exclaimed the girl, sud- 

denly halting and thinking Only, and most unreasonably, 
of news from Fleming Chase. 

“ Yes, but, dear child, I do not really know whether 
I am glad or sorry to be the bearer of this news. I do 
not know whether it will be for your good or evil, but it 
is grand news ! There — I must leave it for to-morrow. I 
cannot enter into so heavy a subject this afternoon. I 


THE rector’s return. 


233 


should not even have alluded to it but that I think it is 
well to give you something else to think of beside 
Adrian’s absence. Now with wondering what my news 
can possibly be, you will have no time to fret after 
your lover. There ! be off with you now, and give me 
a chance to get some of this railroad grit out of my 
eyes and nose.” 

Net smiled and left the room, speculating, indeed, as 
to what her father’s news for her could be, but know- 
ing well that, whatever it was, it could not possibly 
astonish her so much as her news must astonish him. 
But this also must be deferred for the morning. 

Half an hour later Dr. Starr came down to dinner, 
where he met Miss Deloraine, Net and the babies, who 
had been allowed to sit up to see their father. 

After shaking hands with Antoinette in grave affec- 
tion that somewhat surprised the young lady, he took 
up and kissed each child in turn, and then drew from 
his capacious pockets a wonderful little walking doll 
for Ella, and a bewildering Noah’s Ark for Luke. 

Then Net had to use all her influence over the 
delighted babies to persuade them to lay aside their 
entrancing treasures until after dinner. 

Later, when the whole party adjourned to the draw- 
ing-room, the wonders of the walking doll and of Noah’s 
Ark were displayed and discussed by the children, and, 
of necessity, by the grown people, to the exclusion of 
all other topics of conversation ; and when the hour of 
the babies’ bed-time had come and gone. Net could 
only prevail upon them to go with her to the nursery 
on condition that they should take the doll and the 
ark to bed with them. 

Dr. Starr was very tired with his long railway ride, 
and soon excused himself to Miss Deloraine, and went 
to his room. , 


234 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


When Net reached the nursery with the children, 
she found, to her surprise, the wax candles lighted on 
each side of the dressing-glass, and her Missing Link 
standing before it in an attitude of self-scrutiny. 

“ What are you doing there. Kit ?” demanded Net. 

“ Looking at meself, to be sure. Mistress Net, wull 
yo tell me true — be Oi hendsum or no ?” 

I really don’t know, Kit, whether you are handsome 
or otherwise,” replied Net, coldly. 

“ No more do Oi ! Oi thenk as my red ha’r ’s agin 
my loikes.” 

“ Your hair is well enough. Kit. You should not 
think so much about your looks.” 

“ Mistress Net, did yo iver hear o’ th’ Laird o’ Bur- 
leigh inquired Kit. 

“ Whom ?” 

“The Laird o’ Burleigh, Him wot wedded a poor 
willage lass and med her a leddy ?” 

“ I have heard of that circumstance. Kit, but — ” 

“ It was true, then. Mistress Net t The laird did 
marry the lass and mek her Leddy o’ Burleigh 

“ Yes, but it was not well done. Kit. The lass died 
of a broken heart.” 

“ Ou, ay. So Oi heerd, but that was because she had 
na the sperrit to sport her rank. It wunnot brek moi 
heart to be med a leddy !” said the Missing Link, set- 
ting her arms akimbo, turning around with her back to 
the glass and surveying herself over her shoulder. 

“ Oh, you poor, half-witted creature ! What can I 
do for you ? Kit, who put this ridiculous stuff into 
your poor head ?” demanded her mistress. 

Kit did not answer, but turned slowly around. 

“ Who told you the story of the Lord of Burleigh ?” 
inquired Net, putting her question in another form and 
in gentler tones. 


THE BEOTOr’8 RETURN. 


235 


“ Him — down there ! He doant dispoise me loike 
some folks do !” 

‘‘ Do you mean Mr. Brandon Coyle ?” 

“ Yes, him,” 

“ Kit ! Oh, Kit ! Don’t listen to him ! How many 
times — have you seen him — like that in the church- 
yard ?” 

“ Hoo kin Oi tell, Mistress Net ? Oi seen him noo 
and agen, as he cooms through for a short cut frem his 
fishin’. Oi dunnot know how many toime he hev 
stopped to pass the toime o’ the day to me. It ’s no a 
menny gintlefowk yo ’d see doin' thet ! But, oh, he ’s 
foine !” 

“ How long has this been going on. Kit ?” 

” On, iver sin’ we first seen aiche ither — thet toime 
him and his sister tuk tay here.” 

“ He has been in London, When did — ” 

“ Ou, Oi ’m no maning while him wur in Lunnun ; I 
niver seen him thin,” interrupted Kit. 

“ When did he get back, I was about to ask you ?” 

” Ou, aboat a week sin’, Oi 'm thenkin’.” 

“ Kit ! you must not talk to this man, nor let him 
talk to you. He means you no good, poor girl ! He 
will only bring you to sin and misery.” 

” Nay, he willna ! I ’ll no brek my heart if he meks 
a leddy o’ me loike yon fool lass o’ Burleigh !” said Kit, 
with a toss of her handsome head. 

“ He will not make a lady of you. Kit, whatever he 
may say. Kit, do you remember poor Meg Doyne, the 
sailmaker’s daughter, in Miston ?” inquired little mam- 
mam, as the tears rushed to her eyes. 

“ Ou, ay ! the wench wot run off wi’ a foine gentleman 
to Lunnun, and went to the dogs ? I moind her ! But 
yo ’re no avening me, an honest gurrul loike me, down 
to the loike o’ s/ie/" retorted the Missing Link. 


236 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ No, Kit ; but Meg was once as honest as you are 
before she listened to a fine gentleman’s flatteries.” 

“ And yo ’ll no be avening Mr. Brandon Code to the 
grend vilyun wot desaived Meg Doyne ?” exclaimed Kit, 
indignantly. 

“ Yes, I think that he is just such another, or he would 
not be trying to mislead a poor girl like you. You must 
not meet this Brandon Coyle any more. It is as much 
as your good name is worth to do it — yes, it may prove 
the cost of your soul to meet him ! But if he should 
force his company upon you, take this warning : Never 
let him persuade you to go off anywhere with him under 
any promise of marriage. Do not go anywhere with 
him until you are married, and married by your own 
rector, too, that you and your people may know that all 
is right. If he means honestly by you. Kit — which I am 
sure he does not — he will consent to do this. If he means 
dishonestly by you — which I am sure he does — he will 
refuse, and by this test you may judge him.” 

All Kit’s defiant spirit broke down, and she put her 
apron up to her eyes and began to cry. 

“ Don’t fret ! I am not angry with you, poor girl, 
but I am very sorry for you, and very anxious about 
you. I shall have to speak to the rector.” 

“ Oo, Mistress Net, dunnot tell the maister on me ! 
Dunnot !” pleaded the girl, in a terrible fright. 

“ Then you must promise me, solemnly promise me, 
never to meet or speak to that man again,” said Net. 

‘‘Oi’ll promise yo to hev naething to say to him and 
naething to do with him. Mistress Net, an’ yo wunnot 
tell the maister,” sobbed the girl. 

“Very well ; that is right. Kit. On that condition I 
will not tell him. Now, dry your eyes and help me to 
put the children to bed.” 

The babies, temporarily forgotten in the interest of 


THE father’s judgment. 


237 


Kit’s affairs, were on the floor with all the menagerie of 
Noah’s Ark paraded, and the walking doll gliding 
around it. 

They left their play at the call of little mamraam’s 
tender voice, and consented to be put to bed on the 
already stipulated terms — that Noah’s Ark and the doll 
should be put to bed with them. 

An hour after this all was quiet in the rectory. Net 
was lying awake wondering what her father’s news 
could.be, and how he would receive hers. 

Kit, in her cot over the kitchen, was crying herself to 
sleep over the “ haird-harrtedness ” of mistresses in 
general, and Mistress Net of Miston Rectory in particu- 
lar. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

the father’s judgment. 

I pity most of all when I do justice. 

For then I pity those I do not know ; 

Which a dismissed offense would often gall. 

And do him right, that answering one foul wrong. 

Can ne’er commit another. Shakespeare. 

The next day was the Sabbath, when breakfast was 
, always served plainly, to relieve the servants of the 
rectory of all unnecessary work, and at an early hour, 
to enable the rector and his daughter to attend the 
Sunday school, where, he superintended the exercises, 
and his daughter taught a class of village children. 

After breakfast there were still about twenty minutes 
to spare before going to the Sunday school. 


238 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


The minister went into his study to gather up his 
notes. 

Net followed him, thinking that now was about as 
inconvenient a time as could be imagined for delivering 
Adrian Fleming’s spirit-troubling letter, as it would 
certainly distress her father, and might unfit him for 
his duties in the Sabbath school and in the pulpit, but 
feeling that she could no longer in common honesty 
retain the letter. She must do right, whatever might 
come of it. 

She went and took the fateful epistle from between 
the leaves of the book in which she had hidden it, and 
turning very pale, and trembling very much, she 
handed it to her father, saying ; 

“ Here is a letter that Adrian left for you.” 

“ Oh ! Ah ! An explanation of his sudden depart- 
ure, I suppose. Quite proper, though quite unneces- 
sary. Good boy ! Good boy ! But the letter can wait 
until Monday, my dear. Put it down with the rest. 
Net,” said the rector, who was busy looking over the 
notes for his lecture to the Sunday school children. 

Net laid the letter with the half-dozen others that 
were still unopened on the study table. 

” And by the way. Net,” continued the rector, ” I 
think that other business had better rest until to-mor- 
row. It is entirely too worldly and secular to be 
entered upon to-day. I do not know how I came to for- 
get for the moment that it was Saturday night when I 
promised to tell you the news I brought for you. So I 
must ask you to release me from my promise, dear, and 
to wait until to-morrow.” 

” I will, of course, father, dear,” replied the girl, who, 
though full of curiosity to hear the news the rector had 
to tell, was glad to be reprieved for a time from the 
penalty of having to communicate hers. 


THE father’s judgment. 


239 


She left the study and went up stairs to put on her 
bonnet 

A few minutes later the father and daughter walked 
side by side to the Sabbath school, which was held in 
the gallery of the church. ’ 

The Sabbath day passed, as usual, very quietly at the 
rectory, varied by the morning and afternoon services 
at the church. 

Only one event occurred to disturb Net. She saw 
Brandon Coyle about the same hour in the afternoon 
at which he had appeared on Saturday, loitering in the 
churchyard, where he had no lawful business, and she 
knew that he had come there to meet Kit, either by an 
expressed or an implied appointment. 

She watched Kit with a mother’s anxious, unselfish 
vigilance ; but the girl never left the house, though she 
went about all the rest of the day with red eyes. 

The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Dr. 
Starr arose and said : 

“ Come, Net, I am going into my den to attend to my 
correspondence ; but I want a few words with you first, 
my dear.” 

Net arose, and trembling from head to foot, followed 
her step-father into his study. 

The old gentleman locked the door, and then bade 
his daughter take the chair opposite to himself at the 
narrow library table, so they could talk across it con- 
veniently while he explained. 

Net obeyed, still trembling. 

“ Do not look so frightened, my child. It is really 
nothing alarming \.o you that I have to tell,” said the 
doctor. 

Net was not alarmed about the news she was to hear^ 
but the news that she would be compelled to communi- 
cate, or rather to corroborate. 


240 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Net," pursued the rector, " I discovered that it 
was not for the purpose of being consulted as to the 
re-investment of Miss Deloraine's money alone that I 
was called up to London by her lawyers, but to be told 
a piece of news that startled me more than anything I 
ever heard in my life.” 

The rector paused, as if expecting his hearer to make 
some comment, but as she continued silent and atten- 
tive, he went on : 

“ You will be startled too, my dear, when I tell you 
they told me they had discovered that Antoinette, the 
daughter of Alfred Deloraine, is not the lawful heiress 
of Deloraine Park, but t\\aX.you, the daughter of Arthur 
Deloraine, are the legal heiress.” 

Net gazed at the speaker in mute amazement for a 
moment, and then said quietly : 

“But that cannot be so, father, because Uncle Alfred 
Deloraine was certainly the elder brother.” 

“ Yes, my dear, but he died without lawful heirs.” 

“Oh, father, how could that be? Uncle Fred was 
married to Miss de Spensiere, the mother of Antoinette, 
and you were at the wedding ! I have heard you 
describe the grand festivities at Castle de Spensiere 
and at Deloraine Park.” 

“ Yes, my dear, but that marriage was not lawful — ” 

“ But why ? Everybody thought it was lawful !” 

“Yes, because everybody did not know — in fact, 
nobody knew that he had a wife living at the time !” 

“ Could my Uncle Fred have committed such a crime 
as that !” exclaimed Net, in horror. 

“ It was no crime, but a great misfortune. He did 
not know that this first wife was living. He supposed 
her to have been dead for years !” 

“ Oh, how could that have been ?” 

“ Net, it is a sad story. I wish I were not obliged to 


THE father’s judgment. 


241 


tell it you, my dear, but this is it in brief : Your 
Uncle Alfred, when he was barely twenty-one years 
old, was entrapped by a beautiful, bad woman of about 
his own age and of very low rank, whom he married 
secretly and supported off the liberal allowance made 
him by his father. This woman permitted the mar- 
riage to remain a secret, because she knew if it were 
divulged his indignant father would stop that allow- 
ance. But at length this — this reproach to her sex 
grew weary of her young husband and his moderate 
means — for the income that was ample enough for a 
bachelor was scarcely sufficient to support a very 
extravagant wife — and she left him and went to Paris, 
there to lead a life of criminal splendor.” 

Net’s head drooped upon her bosom, in simple sense 
of self-humiliation iu'another woman’s fall. 

“ Yes, it was shocking, my dear. Alfred did not sue 
for a divorce, for to have done that would have 
exposed his disreputable marriage and his subsequent 
dishonor. He bore it all in silence, until one day he 
received a packet from Paris, with a report of the 
women’s decease, of fever, the doctor’s certificate of 
death, and the undertaker’s certificate of interment.” 

“ She died, then, at last !” breathed Net. 

“ No more than you or I did ! It was her maid who 
died, and was buried under her mistress’s name, and 
by her mistress’s contrivance. The guilty woman 
survived, and lived under another name. All the 
world has heard of Madame la Reine du Monde, for that 
was the arrogant nom de guerre assumed by the woman.” 

“And Uncle Alfred, believing himself to be free, 
married Miss de Spensiere ? Oh, what a tremendous 
misfortune !” 

“ Yes, my dear, being under the strongest conviction 
that his disreputable wife was dead, he buried her 


242 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


memory in oblivion, and some time after married 
Agnese de Spensiere. Antoinette, their daughter, is 
the only child of that union.” 

“ And the heiress of Deloraine Park ?” 

“ By right, but not by law ! You are the heiress at 
law,” 

Net’s head drooped lower than ever under the shame 
of her new honors — because they were to be honors 
that must only come through the downfall and disgrace 
of the innocent victim of other people’s crimes. 

“ How was this discovered, after all these years, 
father ?” she inquired, in a low tone of mortification. 

“ By the recent death of Madame la Reine. Why, 
don’t you know that the papers have been full of 
descriptions of the barbaric splendor and magnificence 
of her house, thrown open to the world during the three 
days of the sale of her effects ? It was in the reading 
of her will, in which, having no children, she bequeathed 
all her property to her nieces and nephews, that her 
real name and rank was discovered to be Mrs. Anne 
Deloraine, widow of the late Alfred Deloraine, of Delo- 
raine Park, Devon, England. 

“ Other letters and papers in her possession proved 
beyond all doubt her right to the name and rank she 
claimed as her own in her will. There was even a 
correspondence between herself and her guilty pro- 
tector, revealing the tricks by which she passed off her 
ill and delirious maid upon the doctors as Anne Delo- 
raine, and so obtained the false certificate of death and 
burial.” 

“ But why should she have done this ?” inquired Net, 
in an almost inaudible voice. 

“ To deceive her husband and secure her own safety, 
and lastly to give herself more freedom. She was afraid 
of the pursuit and vengeance of Alfred Deloraine.” 


THE FATHEk’s judgment.' 


243 


“ But might she not also have feared that he would 
discover the trick ?” 

“ No ; for Alfred Deloraine never went into the 
world of which she became a part. He had some of 
the follies but none of the vices of youth.” 

“ All this became known in Paris through this 
woman’s death ; but how did it become known in 
London ? How to the Messrs, Flint ?” 

“ Through Anne Deloraine’s legatees, who, being 
sharp, low-born London people, suddenly made rich by 
the death of an aunt of whom they had previously 
known little or nothing, and hearing that she was the 
widow of the late Alfred Deloraine, of Deloraine Park, 
immediately began, through their lawyers, to look up 
Deloraine Park and the Deloraine family. Thus the 
Browns and Johnsons got the secret that the present 
heiress in possession was not the legal heiress of Delo- 
iraine Park, and — offered to sell their silence for a con- 
sideration to the Messrs. Flint. These gentlemen ' 
repudiated their overtures, and threatened them with 
prosecution for an attempt at blackmailing ; but, at the 
same time, thought the case was grave enough to war- 
rant them in writing to me to come to London, for the 
ostensible purpose of consulting about the re-invest- 
ment of certain moneys, but really to talk over this seri- 
ous affair. I went, as you know, and in examining 
the evidence with the Messrs. Flint, became convinced 
that the daughter of Alfred Deloraine, elder son though 
he was, had no legal claim to Deloraine Park, or even 
to the name of Deloraine. 

“ But oh, my dear father, if not a legal, surely she has 
a just claim to both !” 

“ ‘ A just, though not a legal claim ?’ Perhaps she 
has, but have not you yourself even more ? have you 
not both a just and legal claim ?” 


‘244 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ I cannot see that I have, dear father,” replied 
Net. 

“ I wish there were some way of compromising this 
trouble by dividing the estate between you and Antoi- 
nette. That would really be just to both ; and each 
would have enough. But the attorney’s tell me that 
there is an entail that obliges the estate to descend 
intact to the heir, male or female.” 

“There could be no division, dear father, for other 
reasons than the entail,” replied Net, 

“Well, perhaps there may be, but the point now 
immediately to be settled is this : that you being a 
minor and I your guardian, ought I not, in your name, 
forthwith to enter suit for the recovery of Doloraine 
Park r 

Quiet Net was not impulsive, never “ gushing,” but 
on hearing this her dark eyes dilated with surprise and 
fear, and rising suddenly, she came to the table and 
seated herself on a hassock at her father’s feet and 
clasping his hand, said : 

“ Oh, no, no, no, dear father, do nothing of that sort ! 
Think of the humiliation — not only the loss of property 
— that is a comparative trifle — but the humiliation it 
would bring upon Antoinette — innocent, unsuspecting 
Antoinette — and the unmerited dishonor it would cast 
upon the memory of her honorable parents ! And all 
only to make me rich, who covet no riches, who /ear 
riches for myself as much as I fear unmerited degrada- 
tion for Antoinette. Oh, no, father ! bring no suit in 
my name, unless you would make me wretchedly un- 
happy !” pleaded Net, clinging to the old man’s with- 
ered hand and at the close of her words kissing it. 

“ What am I to do, then ?” demanded the rector, un- 
easily. 

“ Do nothing, dear father. Let Antoinette live and 


THE father’s judgment. 


245 


die in the possession of her father’s name and her 
father’s estate.” 

“ But these Browns and Johnsons will not be quiet.” 

” They certainly have no right to any part of the 
estate, nor can they compel me to sue for my right. 
So I don’t see what harm the)’’ can do beyond annoy- 
ing the Messrs. Flint, and those gentlemen won’t stand 
that long.” 

“ But, Net, there is another consideration. Although 
you may never wish to molest Antoinette in her posses- 
sion, yet you both may marry, and in another genera- 
tion — what will become of justice ? Her children will 
have possession ; your children will have the right. 
This question, which can never be completely hidden, 
may come up again and ruinous legal war be waged. 
And even if it were not, you, who would ignore your 
own claim to the estate, have you a right to ignore your 
children’s ? — for remember, this is an entailed estate, 
and should descend in the regular line of succes.sion.” 

“ Father, dear,” said Net, in a low, resigned voice, “ I 
shall never have heirs to injure by any act of mine.” 

Dr. Starr looked attentively in the face of his little 
step-daughter for a few minutes, and then said ; 

“ What do you mean, Net ? You are betrothed, and 
you are to be married in a short time. I don’t know 
what you mean by never having heirs to wrong.” 

Net’s eyes sank, and her color rose under this close 
scrutiny ; but she answered, in a trembling, low voice : 

“ I will tell you, dear father ; but first, for the peace 
of ray mind, promise me that you will not say anything 
to Antoinette about this dire discovery.” 

“I will not, my dear — at least without consulting 
first.” 

Net arose and picked out the letter of Adrian Flem- 
ing, and put in the rector’s hands, saying ; 


246 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Read that, father, and it will tell you all.” 

Then she sank down on the hassock at his feet, folded 
her hands upon his knee, and laid her face upon them. 

Dr. Starr, after a questioning- glance, opened and 
began to read the letter. 

Net felt him start once, but she never lifted her head, 
nor moved, nor spoke. 

Then he read on to the close in motionless silence. 

Adrian Fleming told the tale of his mistaken mar- 
riage frankly enough from his point of view, attributing 
the misfortune entirely to his own inadvertence in mis- 
directing the letters, to explain which fully, he inclosed 
the one intended for Antoinette that had fallen into the 
hands of Net and had deceived her, to the misery of 
both. He further declared that a marriage contracted 
under such a misapprehension could not be morally 
binding on a man and must soon be legally dissolved. 
He ended by expressing sentiments of esteem and 
friendship for Dr. Starr and his step-daughter. 

The rector next read the other letter, and when he 
had done so he returned both to their envelope and 
dropped his head upon his breast, in deep cogitation 
for a while, then spoke kindly to the bowed girl at his 
knee, and said : 

“ Look up. Net ! Look up, my love.” 

Deeply touched by his tender tones, she raised her 
pale face and pathetic eyes to his. 

“ This could not have happened, my dove, had not all 
this young man’s conduct led you, and led us all, to 
expect an offer of marriage from him to you. Now do 
not look so distressed, my love ! I have no word of 
blame for you ! You would never have consented to 
this private marriage had not I myself told you — blind 
guide that I was — ‘ that no sacrifice he could ask at your 
hands would be too great for you to make to so ^dmir- 


THE father’s judgment. 


247 


able a young man !’ Of course I never dreamed of a 
result like this. Because he had no open vices, we never 
suspected the intense selfishness that has smothered in 
his soul every sentiment of truth and honor.” 

“ Oh-h-h-h !” cried Net, with a sharp cry of pain at 
this demolition of her idol. 

“ It is a great pity that you are married to such a man, 
Net ; but since you are married, the marriage must 
stand ! He shall ;/^7/drag the name of my pure and holy 
child through the mire of a divorce court !” 

“ For his sake, father ! Oh, for his sake, let the mar- 
riage be dissolved, if it can be,” pleaded the girl. 

“ For YOUR sake, Net, it shall stand ! / will prevent 

its dissolution. I can prove by my own testimony, and 
that of every member of my household, that if he pre- 
tends to have married you by mistake, he should have 
married you by full intention, since his conduct towards 
you had led us all to suppose that he would,” 

“But, father ! Oh, father !” 

“ Say no more, my dear. You can do a great deal 
with me ; but from the course I have resolved upon you 
can NOT move me !” 

Saying this the rector rang the bell. 

“ Go to the stable and tell Tom to get ready for the 
post-office in fifteen minutes from this,” he said to Kit, 
who had answered the summons. 

She vanished to deliver her message. 

The rector then gently lifted Net’s face from his knee, 
kissed her, and turned to his writing materials that lay 
upon the table. 

Net arose and took her former seat opposite to him, 
and watched his occupation uneasily. 

She feared that he was writing to Adrian Fleming, 
and to his father, the baronet ; but she dared not ask 
him yet. 


248 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


But when she looked longer she saw that the doctor 
was writing a number of short notes on half sheets of 
paper, and that they all looked alike, as if every one was 
a copy of the first. When he had written eight or ten 
he stopped, and began to put them in envelopes, inclos- 
ing with each a small bank-bill. 

“ What are you doing, father ?” at length Net asked, 
in irrepressible curiosity. 

“This, my dear,” said the rector, pushing one of the 
half sheets to her. 

Net took the paper, and, with paling cheeks, read as 
follows : 

Married — On the 8th of July, at St. Andrew’s church, 
Kilkin, Dumfries, N. B., by the Rev. James Kelso, Vicar, 
Adrian Bernard Charles, only son of Sir Adrian Flem- 
ing, of Fleming Chase, Devon, to Antoinette, daughter 
of the late Arthur Deloraine, of Deloraine Park, Somer- 
set, and step-daughter of the Rev. Luke Starr, Rector 
of St. Michael’s, Miston, Cumberland.” 

“ As there is another lady better known than yourself 
by the name of Antoinette Deloraine, I added that you 
were the ‘step-daughter,’ and so forth, that there might 
be no possibility of- mistake, here or elsewhere, as to the 
identity of the bride,” explained the rector. 

“ But, father ! Oh, dear father !” began Net, depre- 
catingly, 

“ Hush, my dear. In less than twenty-four hours 
your marriage shall be published through the length 
and breadth of the United Kingdom.” 

“ It will make Adrian hate me,” she sighed to herself. 

But the rector went on with his work, and when the 
stable-boy appeared at the door he had all the notices 
directed, sealed, stamped and locked up in the mail-bag, 
of which the postmaster at Miston kept the duplicate 
key. 


UP AND DOING. 


249 


When he had dispatched these, the doctor turned to 
his other unopened correspondence. 

The first letter he took up was one that had come the 
same morning and that Net had not seen. It was sealed 
with the crest of Altofaire — in black wax. 

“ From the earl ! And sealed with black ! I hope — 
I hope — that nothing has happened to Lady Arielle !” 
exclaimed the rector, tearing open the envelope. 

Net forgot her own troubles in the keenly felt anxiety 
for her friend. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

UP AND DOING. 

Come, my fair child, our morning’s task we lose ; 

Some labor e’en the easiest life would choose ; 

Ours is not hard. Dryden. 

Great things of small 
One can create, and, in what place soe’er. 

Thrive under evil, and work ease from pain. 

Through labor and endurance. 

Milton. 

“ Is Arielle — is Arielle — ” breathed Net ; but she 
could not finish the sentence ; she could not ask — “ Is 
Arielle dead ?" 

“ It is the old countess, my dear child,” said the 
rector, gravely, and without looking up from the letter 
he was reading. 

“ Gone?” inquired the girl, in a low voice. 

“ Yes, gone, after an illness of seven days. Pneu- 
monia.” 


250 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Oh, I am very sorry for Lord Altofaire and Arielle. 
Will they bring the remains to Castle Montjoie ?” 

“ Yes ; and this letter to me is to ask you. Net, to 
meet Lady Arielle at the castle on her arrival. They 
expect to reach Montjoie to-morrow evening. Can you 
be ready to start by that time, my dear?” 

“ I could be ready, dear father ; but how can I leave 
the children for an indefinite time ? ’ inquired Net, 
uneasily. 

“ My dear, we — Ken, Kit, and myself — can surely 
take care of the children for a few days ; and if they 
should be ailing, I will go and fetch their ‘ little mam- 
mam ’ home. I want you to go to your friend, my dear, 
and 1 am sure you want to go.” 

“ But — how — shall I go ?” inquired Net, in a subdued 
tone. 

” I will take you there myself ; especially as I shall 
have to introduce you there under your new name — 
Mrs. Adrian Fleming.” 

“ Oh, father ! father !” cried the girl, covering her 
crimsoned face with both hands. 

“ Net, be a woman ! Be firm ! Trust in me to take 
you safely through your difficulties, and don’t com- 
promise me by betraying any weakness. My dear child, 
is your cousin, Miss Deloraine, cognizant of your mar- 
riage ?” inquired the rector. 

“ Oh, yes,” sighed the girl. 

“So much the better.” 

At that moment Kit put her handsome red head in 
at the door. 

“ Go and request Miss Deloraine to come here. Then 
return hither yourself and bring Mrs. Ken with you.” 

When the summoned women, in obedience to the 
rector’s request, met in the study. Dr. Starr arose, and 
in a calm voice announced : 


UP AND DOING. 


251 


“ I have sent for you, my good friends, that I may 
announce to you an important domestic event — the 
marriage of my step-daughter, your young mistress, to 
Mr. Adrian Fleming. The circumstances of Mr. Flem- 
ing’s sudden departure hastened the marriage. It will 
be published in all the papers to-morrow. You will 
hereafter address your young mistress as ‘ madam,’ and 
speak of her as Mrs. Adrian Fleming. That is all. 
You can retire,” said the doctor. 

The amazed Mrs. Ken and Kit withdrew after 
warmly embracing “ Mistress Net.” 

Then turning to Miss Deloraine, the rector said : 

“And now I must tell you something else. We have 
a letter with bad news from Skol. The old countess 
has gone.” 

“ She was very aged,” said Antoinette, in a grave and 
gentle tone. 

“ They are bringing her remains to be laid in the 
family vault at Castle Montjoie. The earl has written 
to request me to let my daughter go to meet Lady 
Arielle there, as her ladyship will need a companion.” 

“ Is not Miss Desparde with Arielle ?” 

“ No, Miss Desparde left Skol, with Lord Beaudevere, 
a week ago, so says the letter. I think that Net will 
have to go, my dear. She hesitates only on account of 
the children. But surely we can take care of them !” 

“ Of course we can, and at any time send and bring 
‘ little mammam ’ home if her presence should be 
needed,” added Antoinette, cordially. 

“Just what I told her myself. It is settled, Mrs. 
Fleming. We leave Miston for Castle Montjoie 
to-morrow afternoon ! And now, my dears, you may 
both leave me to look over the rest of my correspond- 
ence,” said the doctor, cheerfully, as he turned to his 
unopened letters. 


252 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ It will be all right, Net. Uncle knows what to do,” 
said Miss Deloraine, as the two girls left the study- 
together. 

- The next day Net made preparations for her visit to 
Castle Montjoie. She took an over-affectionate leave 
of the children. Then she went down stairs, and 
entered the gig that was already waiting before the 
rectory door to take her to the castle. 

Dr. Starr handed her in, took the seat by her side, 
and started the steady-going roan mare that always 
took him about on his distant parish visits. 

Arrived at the castle, they were met by the venerable 
Father Peter Lucas, who notified the aged earl of the 
visitors’ presence. 

Very soon the earl came in, his slow and heavy foot- 
steps bearing witness to the weight of sorrow in his 
aged breast. 

As he entered the room Dr. Starr and Net stood up. 

The earl offered his hand to the rector, who pressed 
it earnestly, but in silence. Then he turned to Net, 
took her hand and said : 

“ I wish you much and long happiness in your mar- 
ried life, my dear. It is kind of you to come at such a 
time to my afflicted child. 

“ I thank you, my lord,” answered Net in a low and 
reverential tone, though much surprised to hear that 
his lordship knew of her marriage. 

” I saw the announcement in the Times of this morn- 
ing,” continued the earl in explanation, as he turned 
again to the rector, “ and I told Arielle, hoping from the 
affection she feels for your daughter that the interest 
she would take in the event ihight divert her thoughts 
from her own sorrows. My dear, here is Lacy, come to 
conduct you to her young lady,” he added, as the maid 
appeared at the door. 


UP AND DOING. 


253 


“ Father, shall I see you again before you go ?’* 
inquired Net, as she arose. 

“ No, my dear, I think not. You may take leave of 
me now,” said the rector. 

The girl kissed him good-by, with the reiterated pe- 
tition that he would see to the babies and send for her 
if they should need her, and having done so she went 
out in the hall to Lacy, who smiled and courtesied a 
welcome, and then led the visitor up stairs to the 
apartment of Lady Arielle — the same in which Net had 
assisted to dress the bride on that broken wedding-day. 

Arielle, already draped in a black cashmere wrapper, 
with her bright hair gathered up under a black silk net 
and no white visible about her except her fair face and 
hands, came out from some obscure part of the chamber 
and advanced to meet her guest. 

” So good of you to come, dear girl, especially at such 
a time. Grandpapa had not heard of your marriage 
when we wrote for you to come, or he certainly would 
not have written. We scarcely expected you, dear ; but 
oh ! it is such a comfort to have you. So sweet of you 
to come. Net, and so lovely of Mr. Fleming not to pre- 
vent you,” said Lady Arielle — not all at once, but as 
she took Net’s hand, kissed her, drew her across the 
room, and made her sit down in one of three easy-chairs, 
while she herself took another. 

Net could not reply to anything Arielle said in refer- 
ence to her marriage. 

And then, not being encouraged to pursue the theme, 
Arielle subsided into silence. 

The dressmaker came now from her distant seat and 
asked to try the bombazine waist she had basted, to see 
whether it would fit. 

And Arielle arose with a sigh to go through the dis- 
agreeable ordeal. 


254 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Some minutes were passed in snipping and clipping, 
letting out and letting in, and then Arielle was per- 
mitted to sit down. 

Net offered to assist in the sewing, and was provided 
with a needle and thread and a pair of sleeves to make. 

At six o’clock dinner — their dinner — was served pri- 
vately in Lady Arielle’s sitting-room. 

After sundown the dressmaker, who lived in the 
neighborhood, went home for the night. 

Net shared the room and the bed of Lady Arielle. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

GONE HOME. 

Nearer the bourne of life 
Where we lay our burdens down, 

Nearer leaving the cross. 

Nearer gaining the crown. 

Nearer the great white throne. 

Nearer the crystal sea. 

Nearer the Father’s house. 

Where many mansions be. 

Phebe Carey. 

Net remained with her friend until the funeral of the 
late countess was over. 

She would then have returned to the rectory but that 
Dr. Starr, who had attended the obsequies, brought her 
the best news of the babies’ health and happiness, on 
the one hand, and Lady Arielle implored her to stay yet 
a little longer, on the other. 

It was the day after these solemn ceremonies, and all 
the funeral guests left the house. 


GONE HOME. 


255 


The earl was closeted in the oratory with Father 
Peter Lucas, in whose society he now passed much of 
his time. 

Arielle and Net were seated alone together in the 
sitting-room of the former. 

“ It is very good of you to remain with me,” exclaimed 
Arielle warmly. “ And indeed I should think myself 
unpardonably selfish in persuading you to stay, only — 
only — I wish to relieve my mind by talking of a sub- 
ject that I could iiot discuss with Vivienne Desparde 
while she was with me, and that I dare not broach to 
my grandfather.” 

Here the young lady paused, while Net looked atten- 
tive and sympathetic. 

“ It is about — Valdimir,” cried Arielle, in a hesitating 
and trembling voice, and then she broke down, and burst 
into a storm of tears and sobs. 

Net went nearer to the girl, and drew the little 
golden-haired head down upon her own compassionate 
bosom, but said no vain words of false and useless con- 
solation. 

The paroxysm lasted a long while, and subsided only 
by slow degrees ; but when it was quite over Arielle 
lifted her head from Net’s bosom, wiped her eyes 
impatiently, and exclaimed : 

“ I know, I feel how weak and foolish it is in me to 
grieve so — grieve so — about a man who has inflicted 
such an insult, such an outrage upon me — as he did in 
deserting me on my wedding morning. But oh, Net, 
after the first shock that laid me low, I bore up because 
I had faith in him, notwithstanding all that had 
happened. But now — now that my faith has been lost, 
I have nothing to live for ; my heart is broken.” 

Net was shocked. 

s “ If your faith in him stood the test of his strange 


256 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


conduct on his wedding-day, something even worse than 
that must have happened to shake it so severely,” she 
said, 

“ To utterly overthrow it ! Yes, Net, Listen : 
While we were at Skol, Lord Beaudevere and Miss 
Desparde were our guests. On the day my dear 
grandmother was taken ill, two letters were received 
at Skol, One was from the agent to Lord Beaudevere, 
with news of — of Valdimir, that determined the baron 
to go to America,” 

“ In search of the missing one ?” 

“Yes, He and Vivienne left Skol for Liverpool the 
same day to take passage in the first steamer that sailed 
for New York, But oh ! Net, the search will be a 
thankless one !” 

“ My dear !” exclaimed the surprised and perplexed 
little woman, 

“ Oh, Net ! Net ! the other letter I spoke of was 
from Aspirita Coyle to me ! In the excitement of the 
agent’s news, and the bustle of our friends’ sudden 
departure, I put my letter unopened into my pocket to 
read later, I thought it contained nothing more than 
London gossip, and could wait ; but oh ! Net ! Net ! 
Aspirita’s letter inclosed — one — from — Valdimir !” 

Again Arielle almost broke down in uttering his 
name, 

“From — Valdimir V' exclaimed Net, involuntarily, 

Arielle replied with a nod and a short sob, 

“ you ?" 

“ No. Not to me. He spared me that last insult. 
The letter was written from New York and addressed 
to Brandon Coyle, It contained a confession — an 
explanation — I *do not know which to call it, of what 
the writer termed the irresistible force of circumstances 
that compelled him to abandon me even on the morn- 


GONE HOME. 


257 


ing appointed for our wedding. Oh, it was terrible !” 
exclaimed the young creature, with a shudder, 

“ Do not talk of it, then, dear. It agitates you too 
much,” said Net, soothingly. 

“ But I must ! I must ! I must get it off my mind 
or suffocate ! This was it — then ! He — Valdimir — 
left the country — in company with — a young woman of 
the lower orders — who, he said — had greater claims on 
him — than I had !” 

Arielle spoke with a gasp between each clause of her 
sentence as if she was losing breath. 

“ Had he married her ?” inquired Net, in a very low 
tone. 

“Yes — the day before — he — was to have married me. 
Her kinsmen threatened exposure, death, if he did not 
do so,” panted Arielle. 

“ Now do not say another word, dear. Drink this and 
compose yourself,” said Net, bringing a glass of water 
from the stand. 

“ I cannot — just yet,” replied Arielle, covering her 
face with her hands and sinking back in her chair, 
where she remained perfectly still, until she had re- 
gained composure. 

Net replaced the rejected glass and sat down beside 
her in silent sympathy. 

After a few moments, Arielle dropped her hands from 
before her face and spoke again : 

“ I burned that dreadful letter up, lest it should fall 
into any one else’s hands. I locked the dreadful secret 
in my own bosom ; but I wrote to Aspirita and begged 
that she and her brother would show their regard for 
me by an utter and absolute silence on the subject. In 
due return of mail, on the very day we .set out for this 
place, I received a joint letter from Aspirita and Bran- 
don Coyle, pledging themselves to me to hold the secret 


258 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


inviolable until I should give them leave to speak ! 
Net, I will never do that. I burned this second letter 
also, and tried to banish the terrible thought of Valdi- 
mir’s degradation from my mind.” 

“ But in Aspirita’s first letter, inclosing Valdimir’s, 
what excuse did she make for sending such a paper to 
you at all ?” demanded Net, somewhat indignantly. 

“ Oh, she did right ! Shq said that her brother had 
received the letter and showed it to her, and that she 
asked permission to send it to me, because the worst 
certainty was so much better than suspense, and such a 
certainty as this would help me to get over my disap- 
pointment by kindling a just and righteous anger 
against the man who so basely degraded himself and so 
bitterly deceived me.” 

“I suppose she was right, and I hope the effect will 
be what she wished,” said Net. 

“ But it will not ! It will not ! As long as I could 
think honorably of Valdimir, I could bear the loss of 
him, but now — but now — I feel that I have lost him 
eternally,” moaned Arielle. 

Net laid her hand on the bowed head and caressed it. 
She had no word of comfort for such hopeless grief. 

“ Oh, that he should have fallen so low ! — he, my 
hero and my idol ! I would never have believed it pos- 
sible but for his own written testimony to the degrad- 
ing fact !” wailed Arielle. 

She was silent for a little while after this, and then, 
with a sigh, she took up her embroidery frame and 
worked on in silence. 

Net remained with her friend until Saturday morn- 
ing, when the necessity of preparing for the Sabbath 
compelled her to take leave of Arielle. 

“Welcome home, my dear,” said the rector, with 
cordial kindness, as he embraced his step-daughter. 


GONE HOME. 


259 


“ I am very glad to be with you again, dear father,” 
she answered, warmly. 

” Sit down there, my love,” said the doctor, pointing 
to a chair opposite to his own at the table, so that they 
could look and talk across to each other, as before. 

” Net, the first thing I did after my return home was 
to mark the marriage notice printed in the MistonNews 
and send it to Mr. Adrian Fleming.” 

“ Yes, father.” 

” Yesterday I got a letter from the young man, 
charging me with having taken prompt advantage of 
his own fatal mistake by publi.shing the marriage to the 
world ; and he further charged me with having done 
all this without your consent, if not even without your 
knowledge, for, he declared, you would never have 
consented to the step. I am glad, for my opinion of his 
sagacity and truthfulness, that he has done this justice 
to )^our self-sacrificing spirit, Net,” concluded the 
doctor. 

“ Father,” murmured the girl, in a very low tone, 
“ did Adrian tell you how his parents received the news 
of his marriage ?” 

“ No. I think from what he wrote that they have 
not yet noticed the announcement. You know old 
wedded folks are not like young single ones — they are 
not always eager to read the ‘ Marriages ’ in the news- 
papers. They might probably never see it.” 

“ No,” breathed Net. 

“ But Fleming wrote that he should take the first 
opportunity of consulting his father upon the unparal- 
leled awkwardness of his position, and then leave the 
country for some years. Sir Adrian is a just man. Net, 
and when he hears the truth, he will be anxious to do 
right hy you. I know that. You will live to be the pro- 
moter of Adrian’s welfare and hajipiness. The fellow 


260 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


loved you sincerely before he saw Antoinette and became 
dazzled by her beauty — a superficial passion that will pass 
away, my dear. He will come to his senses and return 
to his first love, as many have done before him, where 
that love was worthy. Let us give him time to 
recover himself, my dear.” 

There came a knock at the door. 

Net got up and opened it. 

” T’ evening mail, mistress,” said the stable-boy, 
putting a black leather bag into the hands of the young 
lady, who took it in and laid it on the table before her 
father. 

The rector unlocked the bag, and took out the con- 
tents — two letters directed in familiar hands, and sealed 
with the crest of the Flemings. 

“A letter from Mr. Fleming for Net, and one 
from Sir Adrian to me. Come, let us see what these 
gentlemen have to say.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE YOUNa wife’s DOOM. 

“ Until I have no wife, I have nothing here.” 

’Tis bitter ! Find you that there ? 

Nothing at home, until he has no wife ? 

There’s nothing there that is too good for him 
But only she ; and she deserves a lord 
That twenty such rude boys might wait upon 
And call her mistress. Shakespeare. 

“We will open Sir Adrian’s letter first,” continued 
the rector, as he broke the large red seal stamped with 
the Fleming crest. 


THE YOUNG WIFE’s DOOM. 


261 


The baronet wrote in a friendly but somewhat formal 
style. 

The rector, with his left arm around the shoulders of 
Net, who sat on a low hassock beside him, listening 
with all her soul and senses, read as follows ; 

Fleming Chase, Sept. 2, 18 — . 

Rev. Dr. Starr — My Dear Friend : Few events in 
life could have given me more pain than the deplorable 
mistake which has placed my son and your daughter in 
such a false position towards each other and the world. 

It is a misfortune of a kind that must always fall 
much more^heavily upon the woman than upon the man, 
and as such I deplore it even more upon your daughter’s 
account than upon my son’s. 

I had been led to suppose — as, no doubt, you yourself 
had also been — that Adrian was paying his addresses to 
Miss Deloraine, of Deloraine Park ; and I united with 
yourself in a warm approbation of his choice ; but, be- 
lieve me, if I had learned that we were both mistaken 
and that my son's choice had fallen on your daughter, 
I should have been equally well satisfied. 

And now my own opinion is that this marriage, con- 
tracted as it has been under a huge misapprehension, 
should nevertheless stand good. 

The young couple do not dislike each other, and one 
of them, at least, the most important one also — the 
woman — has no prior attachment. 

I have had a long conversation with my son on the 
subject. He admits that his own conduct and conver- 
sation with your daughter might have easily led her 
inexperienced mind to expect a proposal of marriage 
from him, and so rendered her the easy and unsuspic- 
ious victim of his own lamentable blunder. He speaks 
of her with the greatest esteem and affection. 


262 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


I have endeavored to persuade him, under such cir- 
cumstances, to think of this marriage as a finality. I 
tell him that he could not do better than to take to him- 
self the good and fair wife he has married. 

But of this plan he will not now hear at all. He 
insists that he loves Miss Deloraine, and her only, and 
since he cannot have her he will have no wife. 

The only concession that I can gain from the head- 
strong fellow is this — that he will take no steps for the 
present to have his mad marriage annulled. Nor in- 
deed would it be of the slightest use for him to do so. 
Such a course would only expose him to incredulity, 
ridicule and contempt. He will go abroad for a while, 
where I hope he will get over his infatuation for Miss 
Deloraine, and return to us “ clothed in his right mind.” 

Meantime I must beg you, my old friend, to bring my 
sweet daughter-in-law here to Fleming Chase to become 
acquainted with Lady Fleming and myself. We are 
both anxious to know her and to have her make her 
home with us, until the return of her mad bridegroom ; 
for that he will return to his father’s house audio his first 
love — for there is no concealing from me that Netty luas 
his first love — I have not the shadow of a doubt. 

Embrace your dear girl for us, and believe me, in 
spite of all the scapegrace sons on earth. 

Your faithful friend, Adrian Fleming. 

“ That is a sweet, good letter, a lovely love-letter, 
dear father,” said Net, gravely ; ” but you know,” she 
added, slowly — “you know that I cannot accept his 
invitation. I cannot go to his house. It would look 
like a desire to force myself on Adrian.” 

“We will talk of that presently, my dear. No need 
for you to decide at once. It would be better in a 
worldly point of view that you should go. It would stop 


THE YOUNG WIFE's DOOM. 


263 


the tongues of all cavilers. I appreciate your delicate 
scruples, Net, but you must not be guided by feeling, 
my dear, but by reason, and by the counsels of those 
who are older and more experienced than yourself. Sir 
.Adrian’s letter is a good and wise one. We must 
reflect a little before we reject its counsels,” replied the 
rector. 

“ Father, will you read Adrian’s letter now ?” inquired • 
Net, seeing that the rector made no motion even to 
open it. 

“ Oh ! I had forgotten ; but really I don’t suppose 
the fellow’s communication is of so much account,” 
replied Dr. Starr, as he opened the envelope and read 
as follows : 

Fleming Chase, Sept. 2, 18 — . 

Rev. ' Dr. Starr — My Dear Sir : I write to you 
because I dare not write to Net. 

I do not say one word in self-defense. No one can 
feel more certainly than I do that I am indefensible. I 
made an unhappy blunder in my marriage, yet my 
father thinks I ought to abide by it. Perhaps I ought. 
But let me ask you frankly, in the interests of your 
daughter, could I do her a deeper injury than to take 
her to wife while my affections and desires are fixed 
upon her cousin ? 

No, you will confess that I could not. 

I like, esteem and honor your daughter, but I could 
not love her as my wife. I will do any and everything 
else in my power to prove the high estimation in which 
I hold her. My father and mother have invited her to 
Fleming Chase. I pra)'’ you let her go there and make 
it a permanent home while my parents live, and, after 
they shall have passed away, let her continue to live 
and reign in their place as Lady Deloraine. 

As for myself, I shall probably never enjoy the bless- 


2G4 


THE SKELETON IN THE CI-OSET. 


ings of home or family ; but the world is wide, and its 
attractions many. I pray that you and your daughter 
may pardon me for any pain that I may have inadvert- 
ently caused you, knowing that my own pain must be 
equally great, and believe me, notwithstanding all that 
has come and gone, ever your friend, 

Adrian Fleming. 

“ Poor boy !” sighed Net. “ Oh, father, is there no 
lawful way of releasing him from his bonds ?” 

“ No, Net, there is none without a public scandal that 
would be intolerable.” 

“ It is very hard on him” sighed Net. 

“ And on you, then ?” 

“ It is very hard, indeed,” assented Net. 

“ The only remedy is time and patience. We must 
wait. Net. And, meanwhile, I wish you could bring 
yourself to accept Sir Adrian’s invitation.” 

“ But I cannot,’dear father. I could not even if I had 
no ties, no duties to bind me here, and I have, for I 
could not leave the babies.” 

“And you could not take them. Well, we will not 
answer Sir Adrian's letter to-day. We wdll wait until 
to-morrow. Perhaps by that time you ma}^ see things 
in a different light, and something may be thought of 
for the babies. They are over four years old now, you 
know,” said the rector, as he folded his letters and put 
them in a compartment of his table-drawer marked 
“ Unanswered.” 

And these letters were destined to remain un- 
answered to the end. 

“ Now I must walk out and see some of my people,” 
said the doctor, rising. 

He took two steps tow'ards the door, threw his hands 
up suddenly to his head, and fell heavily to the ground. 


THE YOUNG WIFe’s DOOM. 


265 


With a slight cry Net sprang to his side and stooped 
to help him get up, for she thought that he had only 
tripped in the loose rug and fallen. 

At the same moment Mrs. Ken and Kit, alarmed by 
the unusual noise, ran in from the kitchen, and Miss 
Deloraine came in from the parlor. 

“ What’s the matter ?” 

“ Wot hev happened ?” 

“ Wot’s broke ?” demanded the excited questioners 
in one voice, as they gathered round the prostrate man, 
who gave no sign of consciousness. 

“ Run for the doctor. Kit !” exclaimed Net, control- 
ling her own emotion by a strong effort. “ Tell him to 
come instantly ! Father is stunned by his fall — don’t 
you see ? Oh ! he tripped in the rug, and fell with all 
his weight, you see, Antoinette !” she added, turning to 
the pale and anxious girl who stood by her side. 

“ I see,” answered Miss Deloraine, in an awe-stricken 
tone ; for, in fact, she saw more than Net did. 

“ Let us try to lift him to the lounge, Mrs. Ken. Oh, '• 
Antoinette, please go and get a pillow,” she continued, 
turning her pain-stricken eyes from one to another. 

“ You had better let me help you to lift him first. 
You and Mrs. Ken can never do it alone,” replied Mi.ss 
Deloraine. 

The three women lifted the body of the rector and 
laid it on the lounge. 

Then Antoinette ran to fetch a pillow, while Net and 
Mrs. Ken used such simple remedies as were at hand 
for his restoration. 

“ Oh, Mrs. Ken, his pulse has stopped ! It has 
stopped ! What is the meaning of that !” anxiou.sly 
demanded Net, as she held her father’s motionless wrist 
between her fingers. 

“ Mayhap it’s just a fainty fit. Mistress Net. Dunnot 


266 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


yo be scared. Wait till the doctor comes,” replied the 
woman, in the shaking tones that contradicted her 
words and betrayed her own agitation, 

Antoinette came in with the pillow, and they raised 
and laid the rector’s head upon it. 

“Oh, Antoinette ! his heart does not beat ! It is as 
still as — as — the dead !’ cried Net, in a tone of anguish 
as she drew her hand from his bosom, and looked up in 
her friend’s face with an expression of agonized en- 
treaty. “ Oh, Antoinette ! what is the reason ? What 
is the reason ? He is not — not dead ?” 

This last word came in a sharp cry. 

“ Hush, dear ! Hush ! Here is the doctor,” whis- 
pered Miss Deloraine, as Dr. Bennet entered the room, 
“ I met your servant a few yards from the gate, my 
dear,” said the physician, as he took Net’s hand, bowed 
to Miss Deloraine, and passed at once to the side of the 
lounge where the form of the rector lay. 

All the others drew back to give way for the doctor, 
who proceeded to make a very careful examination of 
his subject, while Net watched him anxiously from a 
short distance. 

Presently the doctor ceased his investigations, closed- 
the shirt bosom, vest and coat over the lifeless body, 
composed the motionless limbs, and turned away from 
the lounge, 

“ Doctor — doctor — ” began Net, in a voice half faint- 
ing with fear, 

“ My dear girl — you are a good girl,” said Doctor 
Bennet, gently taking Net’s hands in both his own — 
“ you know that this life is not all, and — ” 

“ Oh, he's gone ! he's gone ! Oh ! I cannot bear it ! I 
cannot bear it !” cried Net, in the shrill tones of 
anguish, as she fell back against the wall of the study 
and leaned there, weeping bitterly — for the grief of 


THE YOUNG WIFe's DOOM. 


267 


youth is never dumb, but ever finds ready relief in 
copious tears. 

The old doctor put his arm around her waist and led 
her tenderly to an easy-chair and placed her in it. 

Antoinette sat down beside her and took her hand ; 
but neither the physician nor the friend attempted to 
utter any words of consolation : that, they knew, at 
such a moment must be worse than useless. 

They let her weep and sob until the storm of sorrow 
had exhausted its force. 

And then it was wonderful to see how quickly Net 
rallied her forces and how calmly she went about her 
duties. 

Dr. Bennet took upon himself the whole responsibility 
of the crisis. 

He it was who wrote to Miss Deloraine’s second 
guardian and solicitor in London to apprise him of his 
colleague’s decease, and also to Sir Adrian Fleming, in 
Devonshire, to announce to him his old friend’s death. 
He it was who gave all the orders for the funeral. 

As soon as the demise of the pastor became known 
in the parish, crowds of friendly, sympathetic and 
sorrowing people flocked to the parsonage with expres- 
sions of condolement and offers of service. 

The rector’s little daughter gratefully accepted all 
the love that prompted all the action, but gently 
declined the services. 

There was nothing to be done, she said, but what she 
and the household could do. 

The funeral was arranged to take place on Saturday, 
the fifth day after the death. 

It was on the third day that Net was sitting in the 
nursery, with little Luke and Ella, trying to make them 
understand the great mystery of the change that seems 
so marvelous, yet is so simple— that seems so like death. 


2C8 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


btit is new birth — and she was finding out how much 
more readily the children could receive and understand 
the truth than she could convey and explain it, when 
she was interrupted by the unceremonious entrance of 
Kit o’ Jim, who put a card in her hand and announced ; 

“ A tall owld gent’man, foine and grand, hev come to 
see yo, Mistress Net, and is waiting in the ’all down 
stairs.” 

Net looked at the slip of pasteboard between her 
thumb and finger, and read— Sir Adrian Fleming. 

“ Show the gentleman into the drawing-room, Kit, 
and say to him that I will be down in a few moments,” 
she said, as she arose to make a little change in her 
dress. 

Kit left the room to do her errand. 

Net only smoothed her front hair, adjusted her neat 
white collar and cuffs, and then she went down stairs 
and opened the parlor door. 

She saw standing before her a tall, soldierly-looking 
man of about sixty years of age, with broad shoulders 
well set back, stately head, high, aquiline features, 
florid complexion, bright blue eyes, and silvery white 
hair and mustache. 

He wore a black frock coat, buttoned up to his chin, 
dark gray pantaloons, and neat patent leather boots on 
small and well-shaped feet. 

Holding out small and neatly gloved hands, he ad- 
vanced to meet Net, and taking hers, said, gently and 
gravely ; 

“ You are my daughter-in-law, I presume, young 
lady ?” 

Net looked up in some little embarrassment. 

“You are Mrs. Adrian Fleming, if I mistake not ?” 
then said the baronet, a little doubtfully, for Net’s 
silence puzzled him with uncertainty. 


THE YOUNG WIFE S DOOM, 


269 


“ I am Dr. Starr’s step-daughter — Net,” replied the 
girl, gathering courage from the calm, kind eyes that 
gazed down upon her, 

“Precisely. Quite so. Just as I thought. I am very 
happy to see you, my child, even though grieved by the 
occasion that has brought me here,” said the baronet, 
still holding her hand. 

“ It was very kind of you to come, sir,” murmured 
Net. 

“ I could do no otherwise. It was my duty to you, 
dear child, no less than to my departed friend. Dr, 
Starr. He was my college chum and oldest living 
friend, dear girl, and so as soon as I got Bennet’s letter, 
with the sad news of Luke’s death, I took the first train 
North.” 

“ I thank you very much for coming. Sir Adrian, but 
pray be seated,” said Net, drawing forward a large 
easy-chair. 

The baronet dropped heavily into its cushions, and 
then inquired : 

“ Whom have you in the house, my dear, to look after 
affairs ?” 

“No one but myself, my cousin, and the two servant- 
women ; but Dr. Bennet comes every day and attends 
to everything.” 

“ Ah ! ah ! it was very sudden,” said the baronet, 
referring to the death of the rector. 

“ Yes, very sudden,” replied Net, fully understanding 
him, 

“ Apoplexy ?” inquired the baronet. 

“ No— heart disease, the doctor said,” replied Net, 
beginning to tremble, for as yet she- could not bear to 
hear any allusion to her father’s death without strong 
emotion. 

“ There, there — I have been inconsiderate, my child ! 


270 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Let US change the subject. What are your plans for the 
future, my dear, if you have formed any ?” inquired the 
baronet, with every expression of warm interest. 

“I have formed — none. I have not thought of any,” 
said Net, speaking with difficulty. 

“ So much the better, my dear. You will leave others 
who are older and more experienced to plan for you,” 
said the baronet, expressing the same idea, if not using 
the same words, that had been spoken on this subject 
by the rector. 

Net bowed, not in assent, but in courtesy, because 
she could reply in no other way. 

“ Your father got my letter, I hope 

Net bowed again, and, with an effort, uttered faintly : 

“An hour before he was stricken down.” 

“ My child, I can do little to assuage your grief for 
this heavy bereavement — a grief which, indeed, I share ; 
but you will let me shield you from the material conse- 
quences of your loss. I came here not only to attend the 
funeral of my old friend, but also to take you back with 
me to Fleming Chase, where Lady Fleming will give 
you a warm welcome.” 

“ You and her ladyship are very, very good to me, sir 
— very, very good, even though my own stupid and 
lamentable mistake has placed” — here the'voice of the 
girl was choked for a moment, but she recovered it and 
resumed — “ your son in such a false position. I” — she 
broke down again. 

The baronet, who was sitting nearly opposite to her, 
stooped down and took both her hands, saying kindly : 

“ My dear child, the blunder was my son’s own, and 
you were the victim. He knows that as well as we do. 
Sometimes men blunder into good fortune. Their 
blunders bring them better results than their best laid 
plans .could secure — only in that case they do not call 


THE YOUNG WIFE’s DOOM. 


271 


them blunders, you know. I think my son has blun- 
dered into his life’s happiness. We will wait and see, 
dear Netty.” 

‘‘ You are very, very good to me.” 

It was only a repetition, but it was all the deeply- 
moved girl could say. 

” In the meantime, my love, you will come and make 
your home with Lady Fleming and myself.” 

“ I am very grateful for your exceeding kindness to 
me. Sir Adrian, but I cannot have the happiness you 
offer me,” replied Net, with meek firmness. 

The baronet looked at her in silent surprise for a 
moment, and then inquired : 

” But what do you mean by your words, my dear } 
Why can you not have and — confer this happiness ?” 

“ I have two little children. Sir Adrian,” calmly 
replied Net. 

“‘Two — little — children — slowly repeated the 
baronet, eying the young creature before him with a 
sort of dismayed incredulity. “ Why — you could not 
have been a widow when my son married you ! Noth- 
ing to that effect was told me ! Two little children ! 
Lord, bless my soul alive, it seems perfectly preposter- 
ous ! You are too young, you know I” 

The very ghost of a smile flitted over the wan face 
of little “ mammam,” as she answered : 

“ They are the twins, Luke and Ella, children of my 
dear step-father by his second marriage.” 

“ Oh ! Ah ! Yes ! I see ! To be sure !” exclaimed 
the baronet, with a look of relief. 

“ They are now about four years old. I have had 
the care of them all their lives. Their mother passed 
away the day that they were born,” continued Net, in 
explanation. 

“ Precisely ! Just so ! They are the children of your 


272 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Step-father by his second wife, and of not the least 
blood-relationship to yourself ?” 

“ No, but that does not make the least difference. I 
love them just as well as if they were my very own. 
And they know no other mother than myself,” replied 
Net, as the tears of a vague apprehension rose to her 
eyes. 

“ Tut, tut, my dear girl, you are a good girl, but you 
don’t know what you are talking about. These children 
of my old friend, children of his old age, must be well 
cared for ; but they must not be mill-stones about your 
neck to spoil your life. There is an excellent home in 
my neighborhood for the orphan children of clergymen 
of the Church of England, where they can be placed, 
and where they may be brought up and educated to 
become teachers — governesses, if they happen to be 
girls ; tutors, or curates, if boys. I will see the children 
of my dear friend entered there. It is the best dispo- 
sition that can be made of them. So that obstacle will 
be removed from your path, my dear, and 1 hope you 
will be ready to return with me to Fleming Chase, 
immediately after the funeral,” said the baronet, as he 
arose from his seat. 

“ I thank you very much for all your kind intentions 
towards me, Sir Adrian,” replied Net, very courteously, 
but quite non-committingly. She was filled with dis- 
may at the proposition of the baronet to .send her 
babies to the Orphan Asylum, She felt too much 
agitated to combat his resolution at this instant ; but 
she was resolved never to consent that the little ones, 
dear to her as if they had been her very own, should be 
separated from her to be placed in any charitable 
institution : yet she reflected that she was but a minor, 
and she wondered with fear whether the baronet, or 
any other responsible man who should take it upon 


THE YOUNG WIFe’s DOOM. 


273 


himself, might not have the power to dispoie of these 
orphan children as he and “ the court ” might see fit. 

So disturbed was little “ mammam ” by these thoughts 
that all she could do was only to answer the baronet in 
the courteous, non-committal words we have recorded. 

“ Now, my dear, I will bid you good morning,” said 
Sir Adrian, holding out his hand. 

“ No, pray do not go. I thought — I hoped that you 
would stay here while you should remain in the neigh- 
borhood. Let me show you to your room,” said Net, 
hospitably, rising to perform the duty that there was no 
man-servant in the house to do for her. 

“ My dear, you are very good, but I did not expect to 
stay here, and I have left my luggage at the Dolphin.” 

“ Let me send the stable-boy for it, sir. I beg you 
will not go.” 

“ Well, well, as you please, my dear. Perhaps it is 
best I should be here to look after you,” said the bar- 
onet ; and he took his tablets from his pocket, wrote a 
few lines on them, tore out the leaf, and handed it to 
Net, adding : 

“ You will please to send this order to my valet, at the 
Dolphin, and he will bring my effects.” 

Net took the leaf, and went out to give it to Peter 
Ken to deliver. 

Then she returned to the parlor and renewed her offer 
to show her visitor to his room. 

” I have been here before, my dear — in the bachelor 
days of my late friend — and I know something about 
this rambling house. If you will tell me where the 
room is I prefer to find it myself.” 

“It is the chamber at the head of the stairs on the 
left hand, directly above this.” 

“The one I occupied twenty years ago. I cannot 
miss it,” said the baronet, as he walked out of the room. 


274 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


The next day Mr. James Flint, junior partner in the 
firm of Flint Brothers, attorneys at-law, who, besides 
managing Miss Deloraine’s estate, transacted all the 
late rector’s legal business, came down to Miston, to 
remain until after the funeral, and look after the inter- 
ests of his ward. 

Net, who was consuming with anxiety on account of 
her babies, took the first opportunity of seeking a pri- 
vate interview with Mr, James Flint, to set before him 
the following case, which she put in a very few words : 

“ I have had the sole care of my baby brother and 
sister ever since they were born. Now they are four 
years old, and I am eighteen. We are all orphans and 
minors. But I am even more capable of taking care of 
them now than I ever was before, and they have no 
relative or friend on earth but myself. Now can any 
one take them away from me and place them in an 
orphan asylum or elsewhere without my consent ?” 

“ In ordinary circumstances any responsible man or 
woman, acting as the ‘next friend’ of the orphans, 
might, with the consent of the court, do so. But have 
no fears on this score, my dear young lady ; the children 
cannot be removed from your charge without your con- 
sent, except, indeed, through the action of one person, 
who is not likely to interfere, I should say,” 

‘‘ And that person ?” inquired Net, somewhat relieved 
but still uneasy, 

“ Your husband,” replied the attorney, in a low tone, 

“ He is not indeed likely to trouble himself about 
us,” though Net, with a sigh. 

” No one else will have power to disturb you in the 
charge of the children.” 

“ But — how do you know that, Mr. James ?” inquired 
Net, speaking in her great anxiety with unintentiona. 
rudeness. 


THE YOUNG WIFe’s DOOM. 


275 


“ I have the will of your late guardian and step-father. 
And although I am not at liberty to disclose the terms 
of that will before it shall have been opened publicly 
after the funeral, yet I may assure you of this, that no 
one except the one person who is least likely to inter- 
fere can disturb you in the possession of your children, 
or dispose of them without your consent. But, my dear 
young lady, I ask you in your own interests, how do 
you propose to support them ?” 

“ I — do not know. I have never thought about that 
yet, but I know I shall be able to take care of my babies 
somehou>” answered little inammam, with the blind trust 
of one who had never known a real want, or had any 
experience in the great difficulty some people have in 
being permitted to work for a living. 

“There is an opening towards a fortune for you, my 
dear young lady. Your late step-father must have told 
you the object of his journey to London — ” 

“Yes, yes — say no more about that, I beg you!’’ 
exclaimed Net, hastily interrupting the lawyer. “ I 
would never advance a claim that, however legal it 
may be, is certainly unjust, and I could not enjoy any 
fortune that must come at the expense of a great 
calamity to another." 

“ Then let the matter rest for the present. It may 
be that at some future time you may view it in a differ- 
ent light." 

Here the interview closed. 

On the following day the funeral of Dr. Starr took 
place. 

All the neighborhood, of every age, rank and sect, 
attended, for the rector was much beloved by all who 
knew him. 

A minister from Carlisle read the impressive burial 


service. 


276 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Net maintained her composure through the trying 
.scene. 

After the obsequies were all over, the multitude dis- 
persed, with the exception of a few of the most intimate 
friends, who returned with the bereaved daughter and 
children to the rectory, to be present at the reading of 
the will. 

Among these were Sir Adrian Fleming, Mr. Coyle 
and Mr. Brandon Coyle, Dr. Bennet, Rev. Mr. Com- 
stock, and, of course, Mr. James Flint. 

Some of these friends, hearing that there was a will, 
wondered why on earth the rector had ever thought it 
necessary to make one, seeing that he had little or noth- 
ing to leave. 

The will was read by Lawyer Flint, in the dining- 
room of the rectory, and in the presence of the family, 
friends, and servants. 

It needs but a passing notice. In it the testator, first 
of all, constituted his ward and step-daughter of full 
legal age, and left to her his wjbole property in trust 
for the use of his own children, appointing her the sole 
guardian of his children and the sole executrix of his 
will. This caused a great deal of criticism among the 
hearer.s. « 

“ Lord bless my soul alive ! I never heard of such a 
thing in the whole course of my life ! A girl of such a 
tender age to be left with such a burden and responsi- 
bility ! If he were not my own old college chum I 
should say the rector had been demented !” hotly ex- 
claimed the baronet, seeing how seriously this will would 
be likely to interfere with his own plans and prospects 
in regard to little mammam and her babies. 

“ I tell you, Sir Adrian, that young girl is better fitted 
to discharge the duties imposed upon her than most 
women, or men, either, of any age whatever 1 She has 


THE YOUNG WIFE’s DOOM. 


277 


been the mistress of the rectory and guardian of these 
children since her fourteenth year, and she has filled 
her responsible post with consummate ability ! I know 
it, and can testify to it, if necessary,” answered Dr. 
Bennet. 

“ Perhaps, sir, you were in the confidence and coun- 
sels of the late rector,” said the baronet a little sarcas- 
tically. 

“ It is very true ; I was. Dr. Starr consulted me about 
this same will. I advised him as to the very course he 
has pursued,” coolly replied the doctor. 

“A very unwise course, sir ! This will was, beside.s, 
made before the marriage of my daughter-in-law, Mrs. 
Adrian Fleming. As a married woman she is incapaci- 
tated for the functions imposed upon her by this will,” 
retorted the baronet. 

“ I fancy there is no one but her husband to bring 
forward that objection, and he, Lthink, is absent on for- 
eign travel. Good -day. Sir Adrian. I have to leave 
rather abruptly, for a^octor's time is not his own,” said 
the physician, bowing low, and leaving the room. 

Most of the company were also departing. 

When the room was nearly clear, Sir Adrian went up 
to Nert;, and said : 

“ My d^ar, as soon as you can get free from these 
people come to me in the study. I want to speak to 
you there.” 

“ Very well, sir. I will go,” replied Net, who saw 
that the Coyles were approaching to take leave of her. 

These two were the last departures. 

Then Net went into the library, where the baronet 
sat in the old leathern chair that had once been the 
rector’s familiar seat, and at the old writing-table upon 
which the rector’s sermons had all been written. 

It gave Net a passing pang to see another sitting there. 


278 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Come in, my dear. I have much to say to you. Sit 
down beside me here,” said the baronet, rising and 
leading the girl to a chair near his own. 

Net sat down and waited. Too well she knew what 
was coming next. 

‘‘ This will of your late step-father and guardian, my 
dear, was a very unwise one, if you will permit me to 
say so,” began the baronet. 

‘‘ My dear father was an eminently wise and good 
man,” said Net in generous defense of the departed. 

“Yes, yes, good, most certainly ! eminently good, as 
you say,” assented the baronet, in a conciliating tone, 
“ and wise, very wise in — ah — most respects ! But the 
wisest are liable to make mistakes. Your late father has 
made a serious one in imposing upon a girl so young 
and inexperienced as yourself so onerous a responsi- 
bility as the charge of those children.” 

“ But, dear Sir Adrian, I am not inexperienced in the 
duties he has left me to discharge. I have had the care 
of these children ever since they were born,” urged Net. 

“Yes, yes, I understand all that !” said the baronet, 
with an impatient waive, as if he were fanning off a 
trivial interruption. “ I quite understand ; that was 
directly under the eye of the father. That makes all 
the difference to the state of affairs now that he is 
gone.” 

“ But, dear Sir Adrian, father never took the slightest 
notice of the babies. He really ignored them, first 
from the effect of the great grief that absorbed him, 
and afterwards from habit and from the confidence he 
had in their well-being under my charge. Oh ! Sir 
Adrian, I can take care of the children ! Dr. Bennet 
can speak .for me. He has tended the family all the 
time. He knows how I have taken care of them. Ask 
him 1” earnestly implored the little “ mammam.” 


THE TOUNQ WIFe’s DOOM. 


279 


“ It is not altogether a question of whether you are 
able to take care of them, or even whether you are will- 
ing to take care of them — but whether it is right and 
proper that you should do so.” 

“ Oh, Sir Adrian !” exclaimed Net, in a voice of dis- 
tress ; but the next instant her face brightened, and 
she said in a tone of triumph : “ But my father’s will !” 

“ That will, my dear, may be considered more as the 
mere expression of a wish than as a document binding 
anybody to anything. It certainly binds you to nothing. 
And that is the main point I wished to explain to you 
The will cannot in the slightest degree interfere with 
the arrangements we concluded in behalf of yourself 
and the children on Thursday last.” 

“ But I think there was* nothing ‘ concluded,’ Sir 
Adrian,” said Net, in alarm. 

“ Oh, yes, my dear, it was quite settled that you 
should return with me to Fleming Chase, and that we 
should take the children along with us, and leave them 
at the Devon Home for Clergymen’s Orphans.” 

” Oh, I beg your pardon. Sir Adrian,” said Net, very 
earnestly, and most respectfully, ” I humbly beg your 
pardon, but you are quite mistaken. This plan was 
proposed by you, but never assented to by me ; so it 
never could have been settled, you know.” 

” Mrs. Adrian !” exclaimed the baronet, almost indig- 
nantly. 

“ I am very sorry that there should have been any mis- 
apprehension on your part, dear Sir Adrian, but indeed I 
never consented, and never could have consented to any 
plan that should separate me from those children,” said 
little mammam, tearfully. 

” You ‘ never could have consented to any plan that 
should separate ’ you ‘ from those children ?’ ” 

“No,” said Net, with meek decisiveness. 


280 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Did it never occur to you that when you married 
my son, such marriage would necessarily separate 
you from these children ?” demanded the baronet. 

“ No,” said Net, “ it never did.” 

“ Oh, then you really expected to take those children 
with you to your new home ?” 

“ Yes, I really expected to do that.” 

“ Lord bless my soul alive ! Was ever such sim- 
plicity heard of? Upon what grounds, pray, did you' 
expect such a preposterous result of your marriage ?” 

“ Upon the ground of a conversation held with — 
with — Mr. Fleming when — when I still believed him to 
be my — lover,” replied Net, in a broken voice, for she 
could not yet speak of her fugitive bridegroom with 
composure. 

“ Have you any objection to repeat that conversa- 
tion ?” 

“ No, there was little to repeat. I had just remarked 
that whoever should do me the honor of taking me for 
a wife must take the babies, too, for that I could never 
abandon them.” 

“ A most reasonable condition, truly !” exclaimed 
the provoked baronet. ” What said my son to that ?” 

“ He spoke very strongly, sir. He said that no one 
but a brute would ever wish to separate me from these 
children. Pardon me. Sir Adrian — the words were Mr. 
Fleming’s, not mine,” added Net, with just the slightest 
dash of mischief in her tone. 

“ Humph ! humph ! humph ! Generous fellow ! I 
wonder if he knew what he was talking about ? But, 
my dear, time flies, and we really must settle some- 
thing. This plan of your father’s and of yours will not 
do, you know— will never do ! You are my daughter- 
in-law — my son’s wife — the future mistress of Fleming 
Chase. You are, besides, very young. It is quite 


THE YOUNG \VIFE'’s DOOM. 


281 


improper, indecorous, indecent even, that you should live 
alone in some such small cot as your very limited means 
can only secure, and in charge of these two babies. 
You must send the children to the Devon Home and 
come with me to make yours with Lady Fleming and 
myself at the Chase. How long a time will you require 
for your preparations to return with me, my dear ? You 
know you need only take a little clothing for yourself 
and the children. Your other effects can be packed up 
and sent after you, and Flint has promised to see to the 
sale of the rector’s personal property for the benefit of 
his heirs. And, indeed, you understand that the rectory 
should be vacated as soon as possible for the next 
incumbent to come in. Why don’t you answer me, my 
child?” inquired the baronet, seeing that Net, through 
great embarrassment, kept silence. 

“ Oh, Sir Adrian,” she began, with hesitation, “ I fear 
you will think me very ungrateful ; but I am not so, 
indeed ! I appreciate all your kind intentions towards 
me, and I thank you for them from my heart ; but, oh ! 
please to believe that I must not and can not abandon 
these children.” 

The baronet shrugged his shoulders with impatience, 
and replied : 

“ Who requires you to abandon them ? They are to 
be placed in the ‘ Home,’ where you can visit them at 
stated periods.” 

“ Oh, Sir Adrian, I have read and heard enough to 
know what these so called ‘ Homes ’ are— where the 
children are not so much trained as depressed, not so 
much developed as stupefied ; where they vegetate in a 
state of blind and mechanical obedience to routine ; 
better than starvation, I suppose, to those poor little 
ones who have no other alternative ; but not so good as 
the home I shall make for my babies,” said Net, gently. 


282 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


The baronet gave way to a little impatient stamp of 
his shapely, well-booted foot, and exclaimed ; 

“ They are not your babies ! It is absurd and im- 
proper for you to call them so, just as if you were their 
mother.” 

“ But, Sir Adrian — ” 

“ No, no, I will not hear one word in objection this 
afternoon ! I will not ask you for your final decision 
until to-morrow morning. Come, I will wait over a day 
to give you time to consider,” said the baronet, rising 
and walking out of the room to avoid contradiction. 

Net went up stairs, with the weary, dragging steps of 
age rather than the light ones of youth. 

She entered the nursery so creepingly that her pres- 
ence was quite unnoticed by the children, who were 
engaged in blowing soap-bubbles at the window, or by 
Kit, who was sitting in the rocking-chair absorbed in 
the contemplation of a photograph that she held in her 
hand. 

“ Go bring the water for the children’s bath, Kit,” 
said the little mistress, as she entered. 

Kit started violently, dropping the photograph on the 
floor and blushing up to her eyes. 

As the girl stooped and picked up the card Net saw 
that it was a picture of the dark, handsome, sinister 
face of Brandon Coyle. 

The discovery pained and frightened her. 

What did that man mean by his secret pursuit of this 
poor, simple, credulous girl ? 

Net wished to speak to Kit, to warn and admonish 
her ; but, broken and depressed as she was by her inter- 
view with Sir Adrian Fleming, Net did not feel at all 
equal to the sharp passage-at-arms with the Missing 
Link that must ensue upon her interference with the 
girl's affairs. 


THE YOUNG WIFE 3 DOOM. 


283 


Kit slipped the photograph into her pocket and went 
out to obey her mistress’ order. 

The water for the bath was brought, and soon the 
children were washed and put in their cribs. 

Antoinette Deloraine now came in and took a touch- 
ing farewell from her cousin Net. 

She was to enter the family of her other guardian, 
Mr. James Flint. 

The next morning, after breakfast, the baronet asked 
for another interview with the little mistress of the 
rectory, and requested to know at what hour in the 
afternoon she could be ready to go with him to Devon- 
shire. 

Then Net assured him of her unalterable resolution 
to abide by her father’s will and assume the personal 
guardianship of the children and their property. 

The baronet refused to accept this decision. 

Net remained firm. 

The baronet governed his temper and condescended 
to coax. 

Net was immovable. 

He argued and expostulated. 

Net was rock. 

Then he lost his temper and threatened. 

Net let him do it. 

At length it came to this : The baronet, after an 
angry silenee of a few moments, turned to his daughter- 
in-law and said ; 

“ You told me, some time ago, that if your husband 
should direct you to give up these children, and make 
your home with his parents at Fleming Chase, you 
would obey ?” 

“Yes ; it would be my duty. I should have no alter- 
native,” replied the girl, calmly. 

“ Then, by George ! he shall direct you, my stubborn 


284 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


young mistress !” exclaimed the old gentleman, picking 
up his hat, clapping it on his head, and stalking out of 
the room as if he meant to go and collar his son then 
and there, and make him order Net, and so on, and so 
on, like the chain of forces that made the old woman’s 
little pig in the nursery story go home and mind her 
pot of hominy. 

Net smiled at his words and acts, 

“ No fear of Adrian disturbing me,” she said, sadly. 
“ Adrain may have his faults, as all men must have, 
but he is just and generous, and while he cannot give 
me his love he will never claim my obedience.” 

That afternoon Sir Adrian Fleming went off in what 
the observant Kit called “ a moighty huff.” 

On the following Monday there was a sale at the 
rectory. 

The sale proved to be successful beyond the most 
sanguine hopes of the attorney. The sum netted was 
five hundred pounds. This the attorney could invest 
in the same safe adventure that held Net’s own little 
fortune, and at the same interest, bringing an income 
of twenty pounds a year, which, added to Net’s forty, 
would make sixty pounds per annum, more than half as 
much as the living of the Miston Rectory was worth. 

When the result was made known to Net, she 
exclaimed : 

“ Why, Mr. Flint, we are rich !” 

But she held to her purpose never to touch a penny 
of the interest of the children’s money, but to let it 
accumulate for their benefit. 

The remaining days of the week were busy ones. 

The purchasers came to carry away their property. 

In the beginning of the second week, Net intended to 
move into her little cottage, which was to be fitted up 
with the plainest of the furniture from the rectory. 


LADY ARIELLE’S SUITOR. 


285 


. There was to be but one change in her programme 
of housekeeping. 

Old Mrs. Ken determined to retire on her savings, to 
to the chimney-corner of her youngest married daugh- 
ter’s hut, and Kit pleaded so hard to be retained in the 
service of Mistress Net that she gained her point. 

So the new household would consist of Little Mam- 
mam, the Missing Link, and the two children. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

LADY ARIELLE’s SUITOR. 

His face is dark, but very quiet ; 

It seemed like looking down the dusky mouth 
Of a great cannon. Sterling. 

The earl of Altofaire, now over eighty-five years of 
age, was failing very fast. He foresaw the great change 
at no distant day ; and this foreknowledge, while it 
cheered him with the hope of a speedy reunion with the 
loved companion of his earthly pilgrimage, troubled 
him with anxiety for the future of his granddaughter, 
Arielle, who would be left youthful, inexperienced, 
unprotected, and exposed to the machinations of for- 
tune-hunters. 

There were times when the earl thought that he 
should see his last descendant depart before him. 

At length came a letter, post-marked New York. 

It was from the baron, of course ; and it solved, or 
seemed to solve, the whole problem for the earl. 

We will not quote the whole of this letter. One sig- 
nificant paragraph will be sufficient. 


286 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ It becomes my painful duty,” wrote the baron, “ to 
tell you the whole truth concerning Mr. Desparde. I 
owe this to you and to your granddaughter. I did not 
tell you the whole of the communication that I received 
from the detective, and that occasioned my voyage to 
this city. I did not tell you the worsts because I did not 
believe the worst, and I wished to disprove it on my 
arrival here ; but to my grief and humiliation, I have 
not been able to do so ; on the contrary, my discoveries 
have Corroborated the worst part of the report made to 
me by the agent, and also prove your own just theory 
of the flight of Desparde. You remember you suspected 
that the youth had been inveigled into some low love 
affair of which he was ashamed, and with the exposure 
of which he was threatened. And now such seem to be 
the facts. 

“ He landed in this city, having with him a young 
woman and infant boy, who seemed to be, and ought to 
have been, his wife and child. They went together 
towards the South. 

“ That is all.” 

When Lord Altofaire had finished reading this letter 
he sank back in his chair, groaning and sighing at 
intervals. 

How would this extinction of all her hopes affect 
Arielle.’ It would prostrate her — it might kill her. 

While he was inwardly raging over his position the 
door opened noiselessly, and Arielle entered. 

In an instant she saw the letter in his hand and the 
trouble on his brow. 

“You have some unpleasant news, I fear,” she said, 
in a gentle voice, as she came to his side and put her 
hand caressingly around his neck. ” I know, I know, 
dear grandpa ; I have known all that you could tell me 
for more than a month past. I know that Valdimir 


LADY ARIELLe’s SUITOR. 


287 


Desparde is lost to us, forever. I know that he is mar- 
ried. I have known it for more than a month,” she 
repeated. 

“ And you take it so quietly ? That is right, my brave 
girl ! Thanks be to Heaven !”said the earl with a deep 
sigh of relief. 

“ Oh, grandpa, let us try to forget all about it now, 
and let us not cherish any feelings of resentment. No, 
I know you will not, dear. Let us live for each other, 
dear grandpa, and for the poor and suffering around us. 
And do not fear for me. 1 shall come right in time,” 
said Arielle, now struggling successfully to conquer her 
own emotions. 

“ Thanks, my good and brave girl !” said the old gen- 
tleman, pressing a kiss upon her brow. 

From this day forth the name of -Valdimir Desparde 
was never mentioned at Castle Montjoie. 

The aged earl and his young granddaughter grew 
more and more together until they became almost in- 
separable companions. 

But that was all, until one day in October, as the earl 
and his grandchild were sitting together in their morn- 
ing-room — the earl reading the TimeSy the girl engaged 
in finishing a piece of silk flower embroidery that had 
been commenced by her grandmother — a servant en- 
tered, bringing a card. 

Mr. Brandon Coyle. 

“ Show the gentleman into the drawing-room, and 
say that we will be down immediately,” said the old 
earl, with a look of pleasure such as had not brightened 
his countenance for many months. 

Arielle smiled to see it. 

“ We will receive this 3 '^oung gentleman, my dear, and 


288 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


detain him to dinner. He is a very worthy young man 
indeed None more so. Few as much so, in these days. 

I am glad he has called. Very glad.” 

Brandon Coyle possessed no power of loving purely 
or lastingly. He had inherited from his ancestry a self- 
ish, passionate and impetuous nature. 

Thus his passion for Arielle proved to be as short- 
lived as it was furious and impetuous. He had only to 
see the maiden’s beauty wane under the influence of 
sorrow and illness to feel his ardor cool towards her, 
and he had only to meet another young woman in whose 
person the external attractions of Arielle were intensi- 
fied, enlarged and coarsely exaggerated, to fall into an 
infatuation even, if possible, more aggravated than that 
of his frenzy for Arielle. And such a Venus he had 
found in the lowest ranks of life in Christelle Ken, our 
“ Missing Link.” He did not care for her rudeness, her 
ignorance, her poverty or her low birth, because he 
never meant to marry her ; but he worshiped her superb 
form, which, compared to Arielle’s, was as Juno’s to a 
sylph’s, and her brilliant complexion of damask rose 
and snow-white lily, her bright sapphire blue eyes and 
her golden red hair. Kit was his very ideal — no ! not 
his ideal, for he had no ideas — but Kit was to his eyes 
the very master-piece of nature — the perfection of fe- 
male beauty ; and so he pursued the poor, handsome 
simpleton as remorselessly as the wild beast pursues its 
prey. But all the same he meant to marry Lady Arielle 
Montjoie, 

“ The daughter of an hundred earls,” 

the wealthiest heiress in the north, and a prospective 
countess in her own right. 

Therefore, as soon as etiquette permitted him to do 
so, he drove over to Castle Montjoie to call on the aged 



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LADY ARIELLE’s SUITOR. 


289 


nobleman, and was cordially received, as we have re- 
lated. 

But when he saw what ravages even the last few 
days had made in the fragile form and face of Arielle, 
his indifference toward her was succeeded by a feeling 
of absolute repulsion. 

It required all his powers of duplicity even to be 
friendly with his young neighbor. 

He declined the earl’s cordial invitation to dinner, on 
the plea of a previous engagement — which did not 
exist — and after a short visit he took leave, politely 
accepting the old nobleman’s invitation to come as often 
as he could make it convenient to do so. 

“ Ugh !” he said to himself, with a shudder, as he 
mounted into his dog-cart, and started his horse. “ She 
gives me a chill ! 

“ She has fallen away to mere skin and bone ! She an 
object of love, indeed ! Why, she inspires thoughts of 
death — not of marriage ! I must marry her, though, 
for all that. 

'■ But I must try to stay a little longer the next time 
I go to see them. It was the shock of .seeing her that 
upset me so this time. I shall be more self-possessed in 
future.” 

From this day the visits of Brandon Coyle to Castle 
Montjoie became more frequent. He was always warmly 
welcomed by the old earl and civilly treated by the 
young lady. 

Poor Arielle, overwhelmed in despair by her past, 
was perfectly indifferent as to her future. Her one 
only care in life was to please her aged grandfather. 
When she saw that he was very cordial to Brandon 
Coyle and that he wished her to be so, she became 
friendly in her manner to the young man. 

Brandon Coyle was not slow to perceive that his cause 


290 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


was secure of success in the hands of the friendly old 
earl, with his indifferent but obedient grandchild. 

He knew that, eventually, he had only to solicit the 
hand of Lady Arielle from Lord Altofaire in order to 
receive it ; but he knew also that the Montjoies were 
rigid observers of the etiquette of mourning, and that 
in respect to the deceased countess he must wait a 
proper time before asking the hand of her granddaugh- 
ter in marriage. 

He inwardly fretted at this unavoidable delay. He 
felt that in this case, most emphatically, “ delays 
dangerous.” He dreaded the result of Valdimir Des- 
parde’s visit to New Orleans. He had already written 
to that unhappy young man, inclosing to him the forged 
letter purporting to have come from Lady Arielle Mont- 
joie to Miss Aspirita Coyle, to announce the approach- 
ing betrothal of her ladyship to a suitor approved by her 
grandfather ; but he had received no answer to that 
letter, and he waited anxiously for it. 

But though he was no exacting lover, he was certainly 
a very anxious and impatient aspirant ; and as time 
passed and no letter came from Valdimir Desparde, his 
anxiety and impatience increased. 

Desparde might have gone to New Orleans, investi- 
gated the history of that old crime and its expiation, 
and discovered its whole truth ; and he might, even now, 
be on his way back to England to lay the case before 
the Earl of Altofaire and reinstate himself in the favor 
of Lady Arielle. 

It stood in the interest of Brandon Coyle to hasten 
his matrimonial affairs as much as possible. If only he 
could be once fast married to Lady Arielle Montjoie — 
why, then whether Valdimir Desparde should make any 
discoveries in New Orleans or not, or whether he should 
reveal them or not, he^ Brandon Coyle, as the husband 


LADY ARIKLLE’s SUITOR. 


291 


of Lady Arielle, could defy them all. They might all 
loathe and scorn him, but they could not injure him 
materially ; for their action would be restrained by 
consideration for his wife. 

At length Coyle could restrain his impatience no 
longer. Fear spurred him on ; so one day in the early 
autumn, about two months from the decease of the count- 
ess, he came to Castle Montjoie and sent his card to the 
earl, desiring a private interview. 

He was at once admitted and shown into the stately 
library, where the old nobleman soon joined him. 

The meeting between the two was as cordial as ever. 
The earl suspected the object of the visit, and did all 
that he could to smooth the way of the embarrassed 
young suitor to the proposal he had doubtlessly come 
to make. 

Yet, notwithstanding the friendly, and even fatherly 
manner of the earl, and his own consummate self con- 
ceit and impudence, Brandon Coyle experienced an 
unexpected hesitation and difficulty in putting the mo- 
mentous question ; not that he was troubled by any 
doubts as to a favorable answer, but simply because he 
could not at once find words in which to frame his 
proposal. 

But, finally, after beating about the bush for a while, 
Brandon explained the purport of his visit. 

The earl, who had expected this offer of marriage, 
showed his gratification in his manner and speech, and 
promised the suitor to speedily present to Arielle his 
“affair of the heart,” as the French say, although the 
heart played a small part in it. 

As soon as the aspirant for the hand of his fair grand- 
daughter had taken his leave, the delighted earl sent 
for Arielle, and related the interview that had just 
taken place. 


292 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Although she had met with the friendly advances of 
Brandon Coyle, because it was obvious the young man 
pleased the old earl and ministered to his happiness, 
Arielle did not however suspect the real object of his 
frequent visits. The earl was amazed at her short-sight- 
edness. 

After a short silence, Arielle gravely inquired : 

“ Would my marriage to Mr. Brandon Coyle content 
you, dear grandpapa ?” 

“Yes, my child ; it would more than content me ; it 
would perfectly satisfy me ; set my heart completely at 
rest ; in a word, it would make my last days very 
peaceful,” earnestly replied the old nobleman. 

“ Then, dear grandpapa, I will marry Mr. Brandon 
Coyle, and you may tell him so,” said Arielle, simply. 

The next morning Brandon Coyle came for his 
answer. He was at once admitted to the presence of 
the old earl, who was already seated in the library wait- 
ing his visitor, and who arose and advanced to meet 
him with outstretched hand and cordial smile, saying : 

“ Good morning, my son ; for you are to be my son, 
one or two removes. Take a seat and tell me how you 
find yourself.” 

“ Very well and happy, thanks, my lord. I need not 
return the question. You look remarkably hale.” 

“ Ay, ay, I feel better this morning, besides being in 
excellent spirits, by sympathy with the happiness of my 
girl and buy !” 

“ Thanks, very much, my lord. And Lady Arielle ?” 

“ She is in the drawing-room awaiting 5'-ou.” 

“ May I go to her at once ?” 

“Certainly, I could not be so unreasonable as to 
expect you to stay here with me under such circum- 
stances ! Go, my son !” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


arielle’s decision. 

To me, sad bride, or rather widowed maid. 

One was affianced, a long time before. 

And sacred pledges he both took and gave ; 

False, cruel love, infamous and foresworn. 

Spencer. 

Oh, colder than the wind that freezes 
Founts that once in sunshine played. 

Is that congealing pang which seizes- 

The trusting bosom when betrayed. Moore. 

The young man, who felt himself now at home in the 
house, went immediately to the drawing-room, where 
he found Arielle reclining in a deep-cushioned resting- 
chair, and looking thinner, whiter, more transparent, 
more like an empty chrysalis than ever before. 

He, so full of vigorous animal life, was chilled by her 
aspect, as some persons are chilled by the presence of 
a corpse. It required some effort to throw off this feel- 
ing as he went towards her, took her limp, cold hand, 
and said ; 


[293] 



294 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Good morning, Arielle.” 

“ Good morning,” she responded, in faint tones, and 
lifting her dim blue eyes to his face. 

Again the shivering repulsion overcame him, but he 
rallied his spirits, and said, as he dropped that chilling 
hand : 

“ Your grandfather has authorized me — ” 

Then he stopped, in a strange embarrassment, looked 
around, drew a chair to her side, seated himself, and 
began again : 

“ The earl has told me — the earl was requested 
by me — ” 

And he stopped again. 

Arielle’s faded blue orbs wandered towards his face 
and fixed themselves upon it in expectation. 

“ My love, you must know what I would say !” he 
exclaimed, in desperation. 

“ Yes,” said the girl, with the calmness of utter indif- 
ference, “ my grandpapa told me that you would like to 
marry me, and I answered that I would consent if he 
wished me to do so.” 

“ You angel !” exclaimed Brandon, with very well- 
acted rapture, as he moved to embrace her ; but she put 
up both hands, with a gesture of repulsion, saying : 

“ Don’t please ! Please don’t !” 

“ Forgive me,” he murmured, as he fell back in his 
seat with a feeling of relief ; for he did not really wish 
to fold that living death to his highly vitalized bosom. 

How to talk to her now he did not know ; but a great 
fear seized him that she might die before he could make 
her his own, and with all the grand advantages that 
might come in her train. 

For that reason, as well as for others that have been 
mentioned, it seemed highly important to him that the 
marriage should take place as soon as possible. Per- 


arielle’s decision. 


295 


haps the earl might be induced to forego the strictest 
observance of the mourning etiquette for the old count- 
ess, and consent to a very quiet and unostentatious 
marriage, without cards, without bride-maids, or any 
other pageantry beyond the ceremony in the chapel to 
make their present betrothal a binding union. 

These thoughts, together with the necessity of saying 
something, and the difficulty of finding anything else to 
say to a girl from whom he secretly shrank, and who 
evidently shrank from him, impelled him to inquire, in 
the most tender tones he could simulate : 

“ And when, my love, shall be the happy day that 
will make us one ?” 

“ Oh, I don't know. Isn’t it early yet for such a ques- 
tion ?” she inquired, languidly. 

“ It may seem so to you, my angel, but to a lover’s — ” 
he began ; but she interrupted him by saying, still very 
languidly : 

“ Well, then, I don’t care ! Whenever grandpapa 
pleases.” 

“ But, my dear love, it is yourself who must — ” 

“ It is to please grandpapa that I marry you. He 
must have his own way. Now, Mr. Coyle, will you 
excuse me ? I am very tired and I must go and lie 
down,” said Arielle, rising feebly, and stretching out 
her wan hands to the tops of tables and backs of chairs 
to support her tottering steps as she glided, ghost like, 
from the room. 

” She is dying ! I wonder the earl does not see it ! 
Dying !” he said to himself, as he started up and left 
the room. He called a groom that was passing in the 
garden below and ordered his dog-cart to be brought 
around, and when it was ready he jumped into it and 
drove home. 


296 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


When he arrived at Cavelaiid, his sister met him and 
informed him that a foreign letter had come for him. 

It ran as follows : 

“ Your letter inclosing the letter of my lost love to 
your sister reached me in due time several weeks ago. 

“It should have been promptly answered had I been 
capable of writing. 

“ But, ah ! my friend, I was weaker than you thought 
me. Very much weaker than I thought myself. 

“ I ought to have been glad of her recovery from the 
shock and sorrow of that broken wedding, which must 
overshadow and oppress my whole future life with 
gloom and misery I I ought to have rejoiced in her 
prospect of happiness. 

“ But, oh, my dear Brandon, I am but human ! I am 
but flesh and blood ! And thus gave way beneath the 
overwhelming, stunning blow ! 

“ Think what it must have been to me to read such 
words as these, written by her own hand, and now 
stamped indelibly on my heart and brain : 

“ ‘ I feel that it would be degrading to me to waste 
more thought on one who has proved himself so utterly 
false, base, treacherous ; so I have consented to receive 
the attentions of a gentleman approved by my grand- 
parents as entirely worthy of esteem and affection.’ 

“ Brandon, do you wonder that I lost consciousness 
and reason for a while ? Or that I lay dangerously ill 
for weeks in a city hospital, to which stranger hands 
conveyed me after having picked me up insensible in 
the lobby of the post-office, where I had opened and 
read that terrible letter ? 

“ This is the first time that I have been permitted to 
sit up and write, and this letter to you is the first result 
of my restored privileges. 


arielle's decision. 


297 


“ I write now to explain my long, involuntary silence, 
to tell you these things, and to say — May the Lord 
bless her in her new union and in all her future life, 
whatever may become of me.” 

” That’s all ! Poor devil !” muttered Brandon Coyle, 
in contemptuous pity, as he folded the letter up again, 

“And not one word about me !”’ exclaimed Aspirita. 

“ Why, Asp ! Can’t you give a man a little time to 
get over the shock of his disappointment about one 
woman before you expect him to think about another ?” 
demanded Brandon, abruptly. 

Early the next morning Brandon Coyle rode over to 
Castle Montjoie, where he arrived just before noon. 

He asked for Lord Altofaire and was at once ad- 
mitted to the presence of the aged earl, who received 
him in the old library with his accustomed heartiness. 

“ I hope Lady Arielle is quite well this morning. 
She seemed a little indisposed yesterday, I feared,” 
said Brandon Coyle, as soon as the greetings were over. 

“ She is not well, I am sorry to say. She keeps her 
room to-day, and desired to be excused to you, if you 
should call,” answered the earl. 

“ I am very sorry to hear that, I hope it is nothing 
serious,” said Brandon Coyle. 

“ I hope not, and yet I think I shall send for Sir 
Joseph Courtney,” replied the earl, naming an eminent 
London physician, who had been made a baronet. 

“ I trust you have no grave fears for her health ?” 
continued the young man. 

“ Oh, no. Oh, no. But I think it is just as well to be 
on the safe side,” said the earl, cheerfully. 

Brandon Coyle after a little further conversation 
came to the main object of his visit. 

“ Lady Arielle has consented to bless me with her 


298 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


hand, as you kindly led me to hope that she would, my 
lord, but her ladyship has referred me to you to fix the 
day that shall make me the happiest of men,” he said, 
falling- into the commonplace because he had not earn- 
estness enough to inspire an original form. 

” My dear boy, you must be patient. You are be- 
trothed to Lady Arielle. You are sure of her, and your 
suspense is over on that subject. But as to your mar- 
riage, that cannot be celebrated for some time yet, ex- 
cept in case of a certain event. Out of respect to the 
deceased countess, her granddaughter’s wedding must 
be delayed for a year, at least.” 

‘‘ I thought — I hoped — that we might be married very 
quietly, without cards, without bride-maids, without 
parade of any sort, and therefore without any disre- 
spect to the memory of the late counte.ss,” urged Bran- 
don Coyle, anxiously. 

“ No, no, my dear fellow, that cannot be done. I can 
understand and pardon the impatience of a young lover 
— a bridegroom expectant — which would naturally 
make him forget the proprieties of life ; but you must 
curb that impatience, and bethink you of the fitness of 
things. My granddaughter cannot be ‘ married quietly, 
without cards, without bride-maids,’ and so forth. 
She must be married with all the ceremonies and fes- 
tivities befitting the nuptials of the last heiress of the 
house of Montjoie, and of the earldom of Altofaire, and 
therefore she cannot be married within the year of 
mourning for the late countess.” 

“ That is a very great disappointment to me, my 
lord ! A year is a long time to wait !” replied the 
young man, with a crestfallen look. 

“ You may just possibly not have to wait so long, my 
dear boy ! I said at the beginning that this marriage 
could not be solemnized for some time yet, except in 


arielle’s decision. 


299 


case of a certain event. That event may come to has- 
ten your marriage, and justifying the haste by making 
it absolutely necessar}",” said the earl. 

“Ah ! and that possible event, my lord ! what is it ?” 
exclaimed the young man, eagerly seizing on the 
chance. 

“ My death” gravely responded the earl. 

Brandon Coyle started slightly and then bowed with 
deep solemnity and waited silently for the next words 
of the earl, who resumed the subject in a more cheer- 
ful tone. 

“ Should I find death drawing near, I shall have you 
and Arielle married before I depart ; but should death 
come too suddenly upon me, as it does upon the aged 
sometimes, why, then you will find among my papers a 
letter which I shall prepare to-day, addressed to your- 
self and my granddaughter, expressive of my wish that 
your marriage take place immediately, even before my 
mortal remains shall be consigned to the family vault, 
so that my dear child shall not lack your lawful 
protection for a day.” 

“ Oh, my de’ar lord, I hope, I trust, I pray, that no 
such dire necessity may ever arrive.” 

“ I believe you, my boy ! I quite believe you ! But 
do not be alarmed. I am only telling you what I 
should like to have you and Arielle do in case of my 
death. You must stay and dine with me to-day. I 
know you have no pressing engagements elsewhere,” 
said the earl. 

Brandon Coyle spent perhaps the dullest day that he 
had ever passed in his life, and as soon after dinner as 
decency would permit, he ordered his dog-cart and 
took leave of his host. 

“ The miserable old dotard,” he said to himself, as he 
guided his horse carefully down the steep towards the 


300 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


beach. “ Why doesn’t the old imbecile die ? He has 
lived too long- already ! Why shouldn’t he die, soon 
and suddenly ?” 

And here the dark face of the man grew darker 
under the shadow of the fiend that breathed into his 
spirit the temptation to an awful crime. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

“ THE bird’s nest.” 

A little, lowly, hidden home it was, 

Down in lane, close by a forest’s side. 

Far from resort of people that did pass 

In travel to and fro. Spenser. 

And she, with light and busy foot astir 
In her small housewifery, the blithest bird 
That ever budded nest. Anon. 

“ The Bird’s Nest.” That was the name of the tiny, 
pretty cottage where little mammam and her babies 
found refuge. • 

It was .situated in Church Lane — a long, green, 
heavily shaded, deeply secluded lane, that lay between 
the thickly-wooded rectory grounds on the leftside and 
the tangled forest on the right. 

A high green hedge on each side of the lane inclosed 
it, and tall trees, with their top branches meeting over- 
head, threw it into deep shade even at noonday. 

This thoroughfare was so unfrequented that the 
ground was covered with grass and gemmed with field 
flowers, almost obliterating the narrow footpath that 
ran along the middle of the way. 


“ THE bird’s nest. ’ 301 

Net had determined to take this house, not only 
because she had always fancied it, but because it was 
in such close proximity to the old rectory grounds, tl.e 
home and haunt of her childhood and youth. 

One night in October found the little family, com- 
posed of Net, the children. Kit and Peter, comfortaldy 
ensconced in their new dwelling-place. 

“ Do yo moind wot noight this wull be. Mistress 
Net ?” inquired Kit, as she waited on the children. 

“I know it is the last of October — the thirty-first,” 
replied Net. 

“Ay, thot wull be it.” 

“ But what of it, Kit.” 

“ It wull be Hallow-E’en noight, of all the iioights in 
the year.” 

“ Yes — believe it is ; but what of that, Kit ?” 

“Wot of thot? Whoy, Mistress Net, if there be a 
ghawst in this awld hoose, we ’ll all fain to see it to- 
noight !” said the girl, in a low, fearful tone, as she 
glanced over her shoulder. 

“ Oh, Kit, what nonsense ! A ghost indeed ! You 
know there are no such things,” replied Net. 

“ ’Deed, then, I knaw nothing aboot it ! But if there 
be a ghawst in this same hoose, we ’re fain to see it 
tonoight.” 

“ Nonsense, I say ; but, really, if you are afraid to 
sleep up stairs by yourself. Kit, you had better make 
up a little bed in our room, which is so large and well 
ventilated that two grown persons and two children 
may easily sleep in it without detriment to health. Yes, 
Kit, you may sleep there every night, if you wish ; you 
have only to' make your bed in the evening and take it 
away in the morning.” 

“Thank yo kindly, Mistress Net, but Oi prefar to 
sleep in m’ own place ; and Oi ’m not so timid ! Oi ’ve 


80^ 


THE 8KELETO>f IN THE CLOSET. 


got a horse-shoe. That ’ll keep the ghawsts away froom 
me.” 

Kit cleared off the parlor table and carried the tea 
service into the adjoining kitchen. 

Net took her knitting and sat down by the fire to 
work ; for this old-fashioned little housewife darned all 
the stockings for the children and herself. 

The boy, Peter Ken, had left for the night. 

Kit was singing at her work in the kitchen, accom- 
panying her voice with the rattle of the tea-cups and 
saucers that she was washing and wiping as recklessly 
as if her mistress had never tried to teach her better. 

Poor Kit had been very fitful in her temper of late, 
with turns of deep dejection or senseless levity. 

At length her work and song ceased together, and 
she came in the parlor to say that she had finished in 
the kitchen, and was ready to do anything else that her 
mistress wished to have done. 

“There is nothing. Kit. You must be tired, so we 
will just have prayers, and then you can go to bed.” 

“ Oi dunnot want to say my prayers to-noight. Mis- 
tress Net,” said the girl. 

“ Kit !” exclaimed the little mistress, in surprise. 

“ Well, then, Oi dunnot, and thot 's all aboot it. And 
Oi think it ’s no Christian wurruk to force a gurrul to 
say her prayers loike a parrot when she dunnot want 
to.” 

“ Certainly not, Kit. Prayers should be spontaneous. 
But I am sorry. Are you feeling badly, Kit?” 

“ No ; Oi ’ni well nough ; so if yo dunnot want me, 
Mistress Net, Oi ’ll bid yo good-noight.” 

“ Kit, are you sure you are not afraid to sleep in the 
garret, by yourself? For if you are, you are quite 
welcome to make your bed in our large room,” said 
Net, kindly. 


‘ THE bird’s nest.’’ 


303 


“ No, Oi 'm not afeared. And I wunnot lay in yor 
room on the flure, nohow,” replied the girl, sulkily, as 
she turned and left the parlor. 

Net sighed. She saw that something had gone 
wrong with the poor “missing link,” and in her heart 
she associated that something with Brandon Coyle. 
She had not seen the young man anywhere about the 
neighborhood since the funeral of her step-father, nor 
had she seen him near Kit since the afternoon on which 
she had warned the handsome idiot to avoid his com- 
pany. So Net thought that her handmaid had obeyed 
her, and banished the dangerous admirer, and that she 
was now grieving over the required separation. Net 
was sorry for the girl ; although she was quite sure 
that this separation was absolutely necessary, and she 
resolved to bear patiently with Kit’s faults, and to try 
to help her on to a better and happier state. 

Net led the children into their pleasant chamber, 
undressed them, and laid them in their nest. 

She stayed with them until they were both asleep, 
and then she returned to the parlor, put away the 
books, set back the chairs, smoothed the table cloth, 
and finally drew her little rocker up to the smoulder- 
ing fire, and sat down to fall into a reverie. 

As she sat there alone, with her head resting against 
the high back of the chair and her feet on the fender, 
her eyes fixed dreamily on the dying brands, a won- 
drous peace descended upon her. 

She sat there until the fading fire went entirely out 
and the lamp burned low in its tube, when a stealthy 
step, passing close to the cottage, caught her attention. 
It did not alarm Net, for she thought it was only some 
prowling animal — a stray dog, perhaps, or a fox after 
the hen-roost. But it roused her from her reverie, and 


,304 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


looking at the old-fashioned clock in the corner, she saw 
that the hands were on the stroke of eleven. 

Then she arose, put out her lamp, and retired to bed. 

So ended the first evening in “ The Nest.” 

The next day was the beginning of a new life to the 
little family in the cottage. The children were up with 
the first light of morning, and as soon as they were 
dressed they ran out into the kitchen to see Kit get 
breakfast, and thence into the poultry-yard and cow- 
shed to watch Peter feed the fowls, gather the fresh 
eggs, and milk the cow. 

The children had never enjoyed such privileges at 
the rectory, where the kitchen was remote from the 
nursery and the barnyard far from the kitchen. 

After their neatly-laid little breakfast was over, Net, 
as she had been accustomed to do all her life at her 
former home, issued her orders for the day, and then 
settled herself to her needle-work in the little parlor 
with the children playing at her feet. Kit washing up 
dishes in the kitchen, and Peter cleaning up the front 
garden, where at last he had got leave to cut down the 
dead and dried-up weeds. 

Very calmly passed the days of Net and her little 
household in their new habitation through these golden 
days and quiet nights of autumn. 

She had very few visitors. Nearly all her old friends 
were absent from the neighborhood or incapacitated 
from visiting. Lord Beaudevere and Miss Desparde 
had not yet returned from abroad ; Miss Deloraine was 
in London ; the Earl of Altofaire and Lady Arielle 
Montjoie were both invalids, who seldom left their 
home at all, and never for so long a drive as would 
bring them to Miston-on-the-Sea. 

But Dr. Bennet came in once in a while “ to see how 
the children were getting on,” as he said, and old Mr. 


“the bird’s nest.” 


305 


Coyle dropped in occasionally when “ taking his rides 
abroad ” on his fat, white cob, to inquire whether there 
was anything he could do for Mistress Net — he begged 
her pardon — Mrs. Adrian Fleming ; and then he would 
embarrass the girl by asking her if she had not made a 
great mistake in not going home to her father-in-law, 
old General Sir Adrian Fleming, to wait there for the 
return of her husband from his continental tour. 

It was getting late in the autumn now, and the bril- 
liant coloring of the October woods was giving place to 
the russet hues of November. 

Net was busy making up, or repairing, winter cloth- 
ing for the little family. 

One evening, near the last of November, Net sat, as 
usual, reading before the parlor fire. The children had 
been long abed and asleep. Peter had gone home, Kit 
had retired to her room in the attic. It had been a real 
November day, overclouded and gloomy, with a moan- 
ing, tearful east wind, and the night had closed in cold, 
damp and depressing. 

Net had had her parlor fire well replenished before 
she sent her man-servant home, and so it lasted much 
longer into the night than usual. Her book was a vol- 
ume of Henry James’s discourses, and led her on from 
page to page, and chapter to chapter, with never- weary- 
ing. ever-increasing interest, that so absorbed her whole 
attention that she did not hear the sighing wind, the 
drizzling rain, or even the hourly striking of the clock. 

Not until she had finished the volume did she close it 
and look up. Then she saw that her fire was entirely 
out, and that the cat had crept into the fender and as 
near the warm ashes as a cat’s fastidious instincts of 
neatness would allow. . 

She looked at the time-piece ; the hands were on the 
stroke of one — not an unusual hour for many people to 


306 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


be out of bed, but an almost unprecedented one for Net 
to be up. She felt guilty of a small sin, and she shivered 
with cold in that fireless room, so she quickly turned 
down her light, and went into her bed-chamber, where 
a night-taper burned upon the mantel-piece. 

She undressed quickly and got into bed, where the 
two little ones were sleeping sweetly. 

But Net could not sleep. She had, in fact, sat up too 
late reading, and now her brain was too much excited 
to compose itself to rest. She lay and listened to the 
sighing wind and drizzling rain, and thinking of the 
book she had been reading. 

She had lain so for perhaps an hour, when she thought 
she heard a low sound, like the cautious lifting of a 
door-latch. 

She listened for a moment, but all was again silent, 
except the moaning wind and pattering rain. She 
turned over and tried to compose herself to sleep, when 
another sound, like the creaking of the floor under a 
slow step, reached her ear. 

She started up nervously and listened again, but all 
was still, except the wind and the rain. 

“ How silly I am 1” she said to herself, as she turned 
her pillow and shook it up before laying her head upon 
it again. “ How very silly I am to be fancying I hear 
some one in the house, when I know very well that 
every door on the premises is locked and barred ! But 
then it is proverbial that when we lay awake at night w'e 
hear all sorts of sounds.” 

Although she said this to herself, she listened rather 
anxiously, until, hearing no other suspicious noise, and 
lulled by the low breathing of the wind and soft fall of 
the rain, she dropped into a sleep that deepened as the 
night passed. 

She must have slept several hours when she was 


“the bird’s nest.” 


307 


rudely awakened by a crash as of some falling and 
breaking object. 

She started up in bed. trembling in every limb. It 
was still pitch dark, and the rain was still falling, though 
the wind had gone down. 

“ That must have been the cat,” she said, recovering 
from her fright. “ I left her lying on the hearth, and 
now she has got on the kitchen dresser and knocked 
down some of the crockery ware. I must see how much 
damage she has done.” 

With these thoughts Net got up very softly, not to 
disturb the children, drew on her dressing-gown that 
hung over the chair by her bed, put her feet into velvet 
slippers, took the taper in her hand, and stepped silently 
out into the passage, and as silently opened the parlor 
door ; but before she could advance into the room, the 
sound of voices coming from the kitchen arrested and 
held her spell-bound. 

The first voice that spoke was low and inaudible. 
The second was also low, but distinct. 

“What in the deuce do you send me away so early 
for ? The demon knows I had to wait long enough 
outside before that woman went to bed so I could get 
in !” 

Again the first voice spoke in a remonstrating but 
inaudible tone, and the second voice growled forth : 

“ Why in the foul fiend’s name, then, do you send me 
down in the dark to break my shins over coal scuttles ? 
Isn’t it safer to have a light than to make such an 
infernal noise ?” 

By this time Net had recovered the use of her half- 
paralyzed limbs, and she went hastily towards the 
kitchen door. 

“ Go ! go ! Oi hear some one in the parlor !” hur- 
riedly uttered a half- suppressed, terrified voice, as 


308 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


scanipering steps were heard hurrying up the attic 
stairs. 

Net suddenly opened the kitchen door, and stood 
there face to face with — Brandon Coyle ! 

Amazement held her spell-bound for a moment, and 
then gave way to a rush of burning indignation that 
transfigured Net’s quiet, pale face into the flaming 
countenance of an avenging spirit, and compelled the 
culprit to quail before her ! 

Yet, not in wrath would Net suffer herself to speak 
to the offender. She sat down in her chair, covered 
her eyes with her hands and tried to control her anger 
before she should open her lips. 

Brandon Coyle took advantage of her position by 
turning and trying to steal away from her presence. 

But Net, by some faculty that was neither sight nor 
hearing, nor any other of the five bodily senses, per- 
ceived his intention and prevented it by saying : 

“ Stop ! Stay where you are, Mr. Brandon Coyle. I 
have something to say which you must hear.” 

Her voice was calm and low, yet her words controlled 
him like an imperative command. He obeyed, though 
not without insolence and irony, as he threw himself 
into a chair, and replied : 

“ I accept your very flattering invitation, Mrs. Flem- 
ing, though the hour is an unusual one for a lady to 
entertain a gentleman, and a man must take his life in 
his hands when he consents to receive such honors ! 
I hope Fleming will not want to make a target of me 
for this !” 

“ Do you think it a very manly deed to do ?” in- 
quired Net, passing over his ribaldry and putting a 
severe restraint upon her anger. ” Do you think it a 
very manly thing to invade the defenseless home of 
women and children in the dead of night ?— I demand 


“the bird’s nest.” 


309 


to know what brought you to my house at this most 
improper hour ?” 

“ Ahem ! I am very glad you asked me, my dear 
Mrs. Fleming. It gives me the opportunity of explain- 
ing my business and defending myself. I came here 
then — not certainly with the self-flattering expectation 
that you would insist upon my remaining as you have 
done, but — but — ” 

“But what, sir?” demanded Net, still ignoring his 
insolence. 

‘ I — well — I — ” stammered the man, who had to 
make up his story as he went along, “ The fact is, if 
you put me upon my defense, and require an explan- 
ation of my presence here, why — then — I had better 
begin at the beginning — don’t you think so ?” 

“ You had better give a satisfactory account of your- 
self, Mr. Coyle.” 

“ Exactly ! Quite so ! Then I have just returned 
from London. I ran -up there yesterday on business, 
and left town again by the late train last night. That 
train got in at two o’clock, after midnight. I started 
from the station to take the short-cut through Miston 
to Caveland ; to do that I had to pass along this land. 
When I came near your house I saw that the front door 
was wide open. Then, believing that the door had 
been left so by the carelessness of the inmates, or that 
thieves had broken it, I entered the house to awaken 
your servants, that they might look after your safety. 
I aroused your cook. I was then about to leave the 
house when you met me. I hope my explanation is 
satisfactory, Mrs. Fleming ?” 

While the man spoke Net had been eying him with 
utter incredulity and contempt, and his glance went 
shifting about from point to point, anywhere rather 
than to meet hers. 


310 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ I hope my explanation is satisfactory, Madam,” 
he repeated, seeing that she had not immediately 
answered, 

“ No, Mr, Brandon Coyle, it is not satisfactory,” she 
replied. 

‘•Oh! It is not ! IV/iy not?” he asked, with alight 
laugh. 

“ Because it is a tissue of falsehoods from beginning 
to end I” said Net, severely. 

“ Falsehood, Mrs. Fleming !” haughtily exclaimed 
Brandon Coyle. 

“ Yes, falsehood ; I might use a ruder and more 
expressive word, I knozo what brought you like a mid- 
night thief and assassin into our house, Mr. Coyle — the 
defendless home of girls and babies — I know what base 
motive brought you — ” 

And here the hot blushes blazed up over the neck 
and cheek and brow of the rector’s gentle daughter. 
She would rather have plunged into flames than into 
the subject upon which she was about to speak. But 
Net never shrank from any duty, however painful or 
embarrassing it might be. From childhood she had 
been the mistress and monitress of her' little household, 
and of some others also, 

“ Will you be good enough to tell me what you do 
know, or what you fancy you know about me, Mrs. 
Fleming ?” said Coyle, insolently, taking advantage of 
her confusion. 

“ I know that you come here — a wolf in the fold — 
pursuing my poor young servant, Christelle Ken I I 
witnessed your meeting with her some months ago in 
the rectory grounds, and I warned her against you then. 
I know that she afterwards tried to avoid you ; but you 
pursued her ! pursued her even into the sacred shelter 
of a home that should have been held holy ground, as 


“ THE bird’s nest.” 


311 


the abode of infancy and innocence ! But no place is 
holy in your eyes, Brandon Coyle ! You entered this 
house, as the serpent entered Eden, to tempt, betray, 
and destroy ! You — ” 

“ Really, Mrs. Fleming,” said the man, with an insult- 
ing laugh, “ for a very respectable young woman you 
seem to know much of the wickedness of this world.” 

“ Since such wickedness exists, it is well that it 
should be known, to be avoided, I was the minister’s 
daughter, and have been the parish visitor, ministering 
to the poor, in their sins and sorrows and sufferings, — 
so I have come to know something of the evil that is in 
the world. And now, Mr. Coyle — ” 

“ Upon my soul, my dear Mrs. Fleming, for a young 
lady of your years and social standing, you have chosen 
a very remarkable subject for your lecture !” 

'• It shall be a short one, then, Mr, Coyle, and summed 
up in this : You shall bind yourself by an oath to-night 
never to enter these premises again, and never to seek, 
to see, or to speak to Christelle Ken again, unless it is 
to take her directly to a minister to make her wife" 
said Net, firmly, 

Brandon Coyle threw his black-haired head back 
against the chair and burst into a harsh laugh — a hyena 
laugh, as his sister had called it — and laughed loudly 
and long. 

Net maintained her composure and said not a word. 

‘And suppose I refuse to bind myself by any such 
ridiculous promise ?” he inquired, when he had recov- 
ered himself. 

“ In that case, I know what I shall do,” said Net, 
quietly. 

” You would, perhaps, denounce me_ to those rude 
boors, her brothers ?” fiercely exclaimed Coyle, with a 
threatening look. 


312 


THE SKELETON" IN THE CLOSET. 


“ They are stern, strong-headed, fearless men ! They 
would slay you with less hesitation than they would 
shoot a mad dog ! I do not want them to have your 
blood upon their hands. No, I shall not denounce you 
to the brothers Ken,” replied Net. “ But you will bind 
yourself by the oath I require of you, or else — you must 
take the consequences of your refusal.” 

“ And what will be these consequences, pray ?” de- 
manded Coyle, in a defiant tone. 

“ I will tell you. Listen to me, for I shall do even as 
I say. If you do not give me the required pledge in 
regard to your future good behavior to Christelle Ken, 
I shall go over to Caveland to-morrow morning and 
divulge the whole matter to your uncle.’!, 

“ You — you — you will do this ?” exclaimed Brandon 
Coyle, choking with rage. 

“ I will do this. Having said that I will do it, you 
knmv that I will, as surely as if I had sworn it. And old 
Mr. Coyle, when he shall have heard the story, is 
quite capable of disinheriting you for such infamous 
conduct.” 

Brandon Coyle’s dark face grew darker with malig- 
nant passion. He glared at the girl with starting eye- 
balls, pallid cheeks, and gnashing teeth ; his fingers 
worked spasmodically and clenched into the palm of 
his hand, and he fixed his gaze upon her slender white 
throat, as if he would have sprung upon her and 
strangled her then and there ! The opportunity was 
present — the temptation was strong. 

Net shrank from him — not in personal fear, but with 
pain and horror felt in the sphere of diabolical spirits. 

But if Brandon Coyle meant murder, his dark design 
was prevented. Rescue was at hand in the person of 
Kit, who suddenly bounced into the room like a tawny 
lioness, exclaiming : 


KIT 8 MARRIAGE LINES. 


313 


“ Yo ’ll not tetch a hair of Mistress Net’s head ! 
Oi ’m loking at you ! Oi ’ve been a listening at your 
loies ! Un yo ’d done Mistress Net a mischuff, yo shud 
a hung for ’t un yo ’d been twenty times moi — ” 

“ Silence, woman !” roared the exasperated villain, 
with a fierce stamp of his foot. 

“ Wull, then, behave yo’self. Un yo dunnot, Oi 'll 
let the hull on’t oot ! Yo 'd better go noo. Mistress 
Net dunnot loike yo here. But, Mistress, yo ’ll no be 
setting th’ old squoire on him ; not yet, onny way. 
Oi ’m no that harrum'd as yo moight be thinking. G ’im 
a week, Mistress Net. G ’im a week fore yo sets t’ old 
squoire on ’im. Whoy dunnot yo go when yo ’re bid ? 
Be off with yo now !” 

With a fierce scowl and muttered oath Brandon Coyle 
turned and strode out of the room. They heard him 
bang the door, and then bang the gate behind him. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

> kit’s marriage lines. 

Thus they prevaricated with the maiden. 

By underhand contrivances misled her ; 

And while her simple nature trusted in them. 

They practiced this between her hopes and her, 

And cheated her of all her soul held dear. 

Rowe. 

Kit then went out into the passage and locked and 
bolted the front door, and returned to the parlor, 
saying : 

“ He ’ll no get in un he sud change his moind to coom 
back.” 


314 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Net had covered her sad eyes with her hand, and 
sank back in her chair. 

Net was shocked, distressed and humiliated beyond 
all expression by the discovery she had made. She was 
also utterly perplexed by what she saw in the manner 
of the girl, whom she knew to be the object of Brandon 
Coyle’s secret visit, and whom she had believed to be 
the victim of his treachery. The “ Missing Link ” did 
not look like a love-sick damsel, or a victim either. 
She looked more like a vixen who held the wrong-doer 
in her power. 

As Kit re-entered the parlor Net glanced up, and 
said ; 

“ Oh, child, do you believe that I am your best 
friend ?" 

“ Oi knaw yo be. Mistress Net, and sore Oi be thet 
Oi didn’t listen to your counsels instead of yonder man’s 
loies,” cried the “ Missing Link,” suddenly losing all 
her spirit, dropping down in a chair, throwing her apron 
over her head, and bursting into howls and tears. 

All Net’s worst fears for her young servant returned, 
blended with pity that melted her heart. She arose 
and went to Kit, and put her hand caressingly upon 
her, saying : 

“ Tell me all about it, my poor girl ! I have nothing- 
in my heart but affection and compassion for you, 
child.” 

It was strange to hear this little “ mammam ” of 
eighteen summers calling this big, bouncing creature, 
twice her weight and size, “ child but, then, this little 
mother of many knew that the ” little children ” are not 
always those who are measured by inches instead of by 
feet. 

” Did you love this bad man. Kit ?” she inquired, in a 
tender tone. 


kit’s marriage lines. 


315 


Kit’s hard sobs were the only sounds that came as she 
still held her apron up before her face with both hands. 

“ Trust in me, Kit. Trust in me. I feel for you,” 
tenderly murmured Net, stroking the bowed golden 
red head, and as she spoke her tears dropped on the 
hand of the erring girl, who started as though they had 
scorched her, exclaiming : 

“ Dun not cry for me, Mistress Net ! Oi dun not 
deserve to hev yo feel for me, after turning a deaf ear 
to yor counsels and listening to him's loies ; but Oi 
annat so wicked as yo be thinking. Mistress Net ; Oi 
annat indeed,” she added, loudly blowing her nose and 
wiping her tear-drappled face on her apron, which she 
then took off, rolled up and cast through the open 
kitchen door, with the remark : 

” There ! thet ’s good for non but the wash-tub noo !” 

“ Open your heart to me. Kit, so that I may know 
how to help 5’^ou !” said Net, with such a heart-broken 
look and tone that the willful creature suddenly threw 
her.self down on her knees and buried her handsome 
disheveled head in little mammam’s lap, crying ; 

“ Oi wull tell yo. Mistress Net. Oi wull tell yo un he 
kills me for’t. Oi wnnnot hev yo brekking yor hairt for 
nor me nuther ! He ’s moy husband, yunder man is.” 

“Your — husband— KMT’ inquired Net. with an amaze- 
ment that rendered her slow to believe the evidence of 
her own ears as to the girl’s declaration. 

“ Yes, moy husband. Mistress Net. Yo shannot brek 
yor hairt with thinkin’ shame o’ me, yo shannot ; no, 
not un he kills me for tollin’, yo shannot.” 

“ Then he is not so base as I thought,” said Net with 
the sigh of a great relief. 

“ Go, then, he ’s ill enough. Mistress Net, no fear o’ 
thet ! but he ’s moy husband. Woe ’s the day ! Lor’, 
Mistress, yo moight o’ knawed that mooch by th’ way 


316 


thp: skeleton in the closet. 


he swore al me. Lads dunnot sware at th’ sweethairts 
thet away. Yo dunnot go to think as Oi 'd a let him 
into moy room un th’ minister hedn’t red it over to us, 
do you ? No, Mistress ! No me ! No Kit Ken ! Her 
coomes o’ decent fowk, who ’d a took his loife for it ! 
He ’s moy husband, Mistress Net. Woe ’s me !” sighed 
the girl. 

“ When, and where, were you married, Kit inquired 
Net, still in perplexity. 

“ Oi ’ll tell yo all aboot it, Mistress.” 

“ Do so, Kit.” 

” Yo knaw thet toime when yo tauld me Oi munnot 
meet him no mare i’ the grounds !” 

Yes.” 

“ Wull, I moinded yo. Mistress Net, though he used 
to go there and wait for me and Oi could see him from 
the garret windy at t’ old place, and most croyed moy 
oyes oot thet I could no go oot to him — Oi did — more 
fool Oi !” 

“ Well, Kit r 

“ Then, one day, Oi wur going doon t’ coast to see t' 
mither and he waylaid me, he did, and walked besoide 
me, and Oi cuddent help it. But Oi tauld him as Mis- 
tress Net forbid me to speak to him, or hev anything 
to do with him till he tuk me before the minister to 
read it over us. He begged and pleaded a soight. Mis- 
tress Net, but Oi dinnot give in ; because Oi was 
moinded to hev it read over us moyself. Mistress Net.” 

” Did you love the man. Kit ?” uneasily inquired the 
little mistress. 

” Oo, as to luv, I dunno. I loiked him well enough 
then. He was a good-looking woild cat — yo needn’t 
stare so. Mistress Net. He was a woild-cat, though I 
dinnot knaw him as sich then.” 

“ You could not have loved him, my poor Kit ?” 


KIT 8 MARRIAGE LINES. 


317 


“Oh, Oi dunnot knaw about my luvving him ; but he 
luvved me. Lor ! un yo 'd seed him kneel doon on the 
grund before me and beg and pray and kiss my two 
hands as if he 'd a eat them oop, and turn white and red 
all in t’ same minute, and a’most faint at my feet, yo ’d 
a thort so, Mistress.” 

Net turned away her face. 

“ So when Oi saw he luvved me that gute. Mistress 
Net, Oi said to moyself : ‘ Kit, yo ’re a handsome gell ! 
He ’s a dying for yo and yo mun mek yor fortin oot of 
this.' And Oi said to him, Oi wuddn’t give him no luv 
until he tuk me before the minister and hed it read 
over us, for Oi tauld him as Oi was a poining to be a 
leddy as bad as he was poining to be moy luvvor ! So 
he hed to consent to moy terms or doi for my luv ! I 
wunnot a going to be fooled by him. I tauld him so 
wull !” 

“ When and where were you married. Kit ?” anxiously 
inquired the little mistress. 

“ Yo moind the night after t’ old maister’s burying ?’ 

“ Yes.” 

“ 'Twas then. Oi did oop all moy worruk and went 
off in a carridge, in the dead of the noight, with him, to 
a minister’s house, and he read it over us.” 

“ Where was this minister’s house. Kit ?” 

“ Oi dunnot knaw ! It was summers !” 

‘ Oh, Kit !” 

“ Dunnot be feared. Mistress Net. It was all roight. 
T’ minister hed on a black gown and whoite bands and 
a wig. so, yo see, it was all roight,” said Kit, confi- 
dently. 

“ Did the minister give you a marriage certificate. 
Kit ?” 

“ Do you mean the loines ?” 

“ Yes, your marriage lines.” 


318 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Oh, yes, Mistress Net ! Dunnot yo be feared ! 
Kit Ken hev cut her eye-teeth, Oi wa’n’t going to be 
fooled by him no gait ! Oi was going to be med a 
leddy on, roight and reg’lar ! Oi med him mek t’ min- 
ister wroite oot the loines and give un to me, and Oi’ve 
got ’em now safe in my chist up stairs. Mistress Net.” 

“ And — did you come directly back to the rectory ?” 

“ No, Mistress Net. We went to the inn and hed 
supper with roast birds, and jelly, and things, and wine 
in long-necked bottles thet tasted loike the best o’ cider, 
only a gret deal better, and we stayed all noight at the 
inn, and airly in the morning he started with me in the 
carridge, and I thort surely he wur going to tek me to 
the gret house o’ Caveland and mek a leddy o’ me oot 
o’ hand, wi’ silk gownds and jewels and all. But woe ’s 
me ! when he got to the Cross Roads, where one goes 
to Miston and t’other to Caveland, he tuk t’ Miston 
road. Then Oi asked him, ‘ Beant yo going to t’ gret 
hoose and show me to moi fowke-in law ?’ 

“ And he laughed in moi face, he did, and tauld me 
un he tuk me there t’ old squoire wud turn as oot o’ 
door and tek away his money, and we sud be beggars. 

“ ‘ And what be Oi to do ?’ I asked him. 

“ And he tauld me to go back to t’ rectory and be 
patient, and open the back door for him at midnight, 
and he wud come in, as he hed a roight to do, now he 
was my husband. 

“ Then I asked when he wud mek a leddy af me, and 
he sed soon as ever he could talk t’ old squoire over. 
And .so we went on to t’ rectory and got near it before 
the sun was up. There he put me oot on t’ road and 
Oi ran home and got in toime enoof for moi morning 
worruk.” 

“ And did you receive this man every night while we 
stayed at the rectory ?” inquired Net, gravely. 


kit’s marriage lines. 


319 


“ Oi did, Mistress ! More fool Oi.” 

And have you received him every night since we 
have been here ?” 

‘‘ Along at first Oi did, and yo thort when yo heard 
him prowling around the outside of the hoose late at 
noight it was foxes. And so it was, Mistress — a two- 
legged fox. Eh ! the loies he ’s tauld me ! How he ’d 
mek me a leddy this toime and that toime ! And moy 
poor hairt wearing oot wi waiting. And of late when- 
ever Oi ask him when he is going to tek me to t’ gret 
hoose to moy fowkes-in-law he swares at me, Mistress, 
s wares at me enoof to mek moy harr rise oop on my 
head. But anyways, last noight he tauld me he wud 
mek a leddy of me in one week from this day. So, 
Mistress Net, yo ’ll no go and set t’ old squoire on him 
and spoil all, till yo see whether he will keep his word.” 

“ I fear he will not do so, Kit.” 

“And so do Oi. He dunnot do nothing but tell me 
loies. Oi dunnot know thet Oi ever did luv t’ man, t’ 
woild-cat Oi mean. And noo Oi ’m fain to hate him.” 

“ You must show me those marriage lines of yours. 
Kit,” said Net. 

“ So Oi wull. Mistress Net, as soon as yo please.” 

“Well, after breakfast then. And, Kit, you must not 
’ receive that man again until he openly acknowledges 
you as his w’ife. I mean to make him do you that jus- 
tice ; but you must not have anything to say to him in 
the meantime.” 

“Oi wunnot. Mistress Net ! Oi wunnot, indeed I Oi 
wunnot, indeed ! Oi ’ll moind all yo say to me this 
toime !” 

“ And now. Kit,” said Net, in a slow and hesitating 
voice, for she shrank from giving pain — “ I ought to tell 
you that you did wrong to marry that man for the sake 
of being made a lady.” 


320 


THK SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Oi knaw that noo, Mistress Net ! And sorry Oi am 
for it,” replied the girl, almost ready to cry again. 

“ Then I will say no more about it, Kit ; but try to 
help you out of your trouble as well as I can. Go now 
and open the house. Day is dawning and I hear the 
children stirring,” said Net, as she arose and went into 
the bedroom to get her babies up. 

The sky had cleared, and the autumn sun shone 
brightly into the parlor windows ; an oak wood fire 
glowed warmly in the corner fireplace. 

Net’s work-stand was drawn up near the hearth, and 
Net sat in her low sewing-chair, busily engaged work- 
ing button-holes in little Ella’s new white apron, the 
child standing beside her watching the process of 
finishing, and impatient to wear the new garment. 
Luke was sitting on the floor at their feet, playing with 
their alphabet blocks. 

Kit came in to lay a fresh log of wood on the fire. 
Her handsome face was all “ blubbered ” and inflamed 
from sobbing. 

“ Get these children ready for a walk, and tell Peter to 
take them nutting in the woods for an hour, and then, 
Kit, bring me that marriage certificate of which we 
were speaking,” said the little mistress. 

“Oi ’ll bring un. Mistress,” replied the girl, as she led 
the children away. 

A few minutes later faithful Peter presented himself. 

Peter pulled his red forelock and left the room with 
the children dancing, leaping and swinging their little 
baskets about him. 

“ Now, Kit, bring those marriage lines,” said Net to 
her young servant, who had just closed the door. 

She came up to the little stand at which her mistress 
was seated, and drew a folded paper from her pocket, 
saying shyly : 


kit’s marriage lines. 


321 


“ Oi hev it here, Mistress Net. Oi tuk it from the 
buttum of moy chist when Oi wentoop to mek moybed 
this morning-.” 

“ Sit down there, Kit,” said the little lady, pointing 
to a hassock at the corner of the hearth. 

The girl squatted where she was told, and placed 
her elbows on her knees and rested her round chin on 
the palms of her hands, while all around her fine face 
fell her golden red, rippling hair in dishevelled 
splendor. 

Net unfolded the paper and read the “ lines,” — read 
them with the contracted brows and pursed-up lips 
with which little mammam examined any troublesome 
matter. 

The “ certificate ” was worded as follows : 

“ This is to certify that I, Thomas Jones, minister, 
united this man and this woman in the holy bonds of 
matrimony on this day. 

“ Signed by me, Thomas Jones.” 

Net looked up from this extraordinary document and 
fixed her eyes with a gaze of distress on the handsome 
face of the girl. 

“ Kit ! Who gave you this paper ?” she inquired. 

“ Him — the minister wot read it over us— Oh, it ’s all 
roight. Mistress Net. Minister writ it oot and guv it to 
me w’ ’is own hand.” 

“ Are you sure he was a minister, Kit ?” 

“ Oh, ay. Mistress Net. He hed a gownd and bands 
and a wig all roight, loike t’ old maister when he read 
it over fowke.” 

“ But, my poor child, this is the queerest marriage 
certificate I ever saw in my life. Why, Kit, neither 
your name nor the name of Coyle is mentioned in it. 
You are written of just as ‘ this man and this woman.’ ” 


322 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ Lowk, Mistress Net, wot odds ? Oi knawed who t’ 
man and t’ woman war, and so did him and so did t’ 
minister !" 

“ Oh, dear !” sighed Net. “ And, Kit,” she continued, 
“ neither the place where the marriage ceremony was 
performed nor the date of the performance is set down 
here.” 

” And wot odds if they beant. Mistress Net ? Ain’t 
one place as good as anuther, and one day good as 
anuther ? It ’s all roight. Mistress,” confidently asserted 
Kit. 

“ Oh, you poor child ! It seems incredible that any 
one could have the heart to impose on your simplicity,” 
sighed Net, as she again fixed her eyes on the marriage 
certificate and studied it with a troubled look. 

” Noo, dunnot yo fret. Mistress. Nubbutty hev 
imposed on me. Nubbutty could fool Kit, Mistress 
Net !” exclaimed the girl. 

“ I hope not. I do hope not. And I have heard 
some of the dissenting ministers are unlearned men, 
and one of that sort may have married you in good 
faith, and given you this strange paper. Do you know 
the name of the place where you were married. Kit ? 
Since it is not on the certificate it is very important 
that you should remember it.” 

“ Noo, hoo could Oi remember wot I never knawed 
Mistress ? No ! I dunnot moind t' name o’ t’ place.” 

“ Would 5’ou know how to find it again, Kit T 

“ Noo, hoo could I knaw hoo to foint it. Mistress Net, 
when it was dark as pitch when we went in t’ noight, 
and when we coom back before day ? Oi knaw t’ way 
fur ’s Cross Roads, and mebby a moile or two beyont ; 
but after thet there 's a tangle o’ roads all along, and I 
wuddent knaw which of a dozen was the roight one.” 

“ Oh, Kit, Kit, this is very dreadful ! But, tell me— 


kit’s marriagk lines. 


323 


after the ceremony was over did you go into the ves- 
try and have your marriage recorded in the parish 
register ?” 

“Oi dunnot knaw wot yo mean, Mistress,” 

” Did the minister write your marriage down in a big 
book ? And did you and Mr. Coyle — yes, and the two 
or three witnesses that should have been present, sign 
your names, to it ?” 

‘‘Oi dunnot knaw wot yo mean, Mistress Net. There 
wassent no big book, and no witnesses, and no signing 
names. Minister read it over us in ’s own hoose, and 
there was nubbutty there but him and us ; but Oi med 
em give me my marridge loines all roight. Mistress Net ! 
And Oi ’ve got it safe ! They cuddent mek a fool o’ 
Kit.” 

^'■\hope it may be all right,” said Net, with a deep 
sigh, as she again took up the strange paper and began 
to study it. 

• ” Noo, Mistress Net, dunnot you go to brek moi pore 
hairt by troying to pick holes in my marridge loines. 
Give um to me. Mistress, and let me put um away safe,” 
said the girl, with jealous irritability. 

” Take it. Kit, and keep it secure,” said Net, handing 
the paper. 

” And yo knaw it 's all roight, dunnot yo. Mistress 
Net ?” inquired Kit, beginning, for the first time, to 
show some anxiety. 

” I hope it is. Kit. I know that you acted in good 
faith in regard to this affair ; but whether Coyle or 
the so-called minister did, I doubt ! I doubt ! Oh, 
Heaven !” suddenly exclaimed Net, clasping her hands 
convulsively, “ what can I do for this poor child ? What 
on earth will become of her ?” 

‘‘Tell yo wot. Mistress Net, un thet woild-cat hev 
cheated me, after all,” exclaimed Kit, in more alarm 


32i 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


than she had yet shown, “ Oi *11 tell my brothers Joe 
and John, and even little Peter, and they ’ll brek the 
neck of him, they wull, and serve him roight, too !” 

“No, no, Kit. They would kill the man. You must 
not set your brothers on to murder. We do not yet 
know but that your marriage is genuine, though it 
seems improbable that it should be. You spoke of giv- 
ing the man a week. You said that he had promised to 
acknowledge you as his wife at the end of that time ?” 

“Yes, Mistress Net; but who’s to believe in his 
loies ?” 

“Do nothing rash in the meantime, Kit. And, by all 
your hopes in this world and the next, I charge you, 
child, see that man no more alone until he has acknowl- 
edged you to be his wife. He must do you that justice. 
If he should not do it willingly at the end of the stipu- 
lated week he must be compelled to do it.” 

“ And who wull compel him, savvidge woild-cat thet 
he is ?” demanded the girl. 

“/w///, through his self-interest and his fear of his 
uncle. Those are the motives by which Brandon Coyle 
can be governed, and I know that though old Mr. Coyle 
might feel annoyed at the marriage, he would forgive 
it, for he would much rather his nephew had married 
you than wronged you. Kit. He would never pardon 
the wrong. He would disown his nephew for so das.- 
tardly a deed.” 

“Yes, Mistress Net, and Oi believe thet too, for all 
the loies he telled me on t’ old squoire !” said Kit, nod- 
ding. 

“ But we will hope, even against hope, that there may 
be no necessity to use constraint, but that the man may 
keep his promise and acknowledge his marriage at the 
end of this week,” added Net. 

“ He ’d better, if he knaws which soide his bread ’s 


kit’s marriage lines. 


325 


buttered, Oi can tell him that mooch ! An he doan’t, 
Oi ’d be fain to walk oop and tell t’ old squoire moyself.” 

“ Do nothing rash, before the stipulated week, Kit.” 

“ Wull, Oi wunnot, Mistress Net.” 

“ Now, child, lay your hand in mine and give me a 
solemn, sacred promise,” said Net, with grave tender- 
ness. 

” Oi wull. Mistress Net ! Here 's moy hand and moy 
worrud to do all yo command me, and whoy not, when 
yo 're the best friend Oi ’ve got ?” exclaimed the girl, as 
she laid her plump and shapely white hand, that all her 
rough work could not spoil, in the delicate palm of her 
mistress. 

“ Now, Kit, promise me here in the sight of Heaven, 
and by all that you hold sacred, that you will not see 
that man, Brandon Coyle, alone again, until he has 
openly acknowledged you to be his wife,” said Net. 
solemnly raising her eyes to the eyes of the girl and 
holding them in the steadfastness of her gaze. 

“ Oi promise and wow, Mistress Net, as Oi wunnot 
see that woild-cat alone one minute till he meks a leddy 
o’ me — and no more doan’t I want to see him nuther !” 
said Kit, with an earnestness and sincerity that could 
not be doubted. 

“ That will do. Kit. I feel better about you now, and 
if that man does not willingly do you justice, I must try 
to make him ; but I hope he will willingly do it,” said 
the little mistress, gently. 

This interview had taken up an hour, and might have 
continued longer had it not been interrupted by the 
noisy entrance of the children, who came rushing in 
with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes and baskets full of 
nuts. 

They had so much to tell little mammam that they 
could hardly be persuaded to let Kit lead them to the 


326 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


bedroom to take off their hats and coats ; but at length 
they had to submit to the inevitable. 

Kit had scarcely finished attending to the children 
when she was called off to answer a knock at the back 
kitchen door, and the next moment she burst into the 
parlor with this .singular announcement : 

“ Talk o’ t’ devul and his imps appear ! We hed just 
been spekking o’ t’ old squoire, an’ here ’s t’ gardener 
frum Caveland, askin’ to see yo, Mistress Net.” 

“ Tell him to come in here* then, Kit,” said the little 
mistress, in no way surprised at the visit, for the old 
squire often sent his gardener with fruit, or his game- 
keeper with birds, to the cottage. 

The man came in, bringing a large basket of fine 
apples and pears, which he begged to offer to Mrs. 
Fleming with his master’s compliments and adieux. 

“ Is the squire going away, then, Mattingly ?” inquired 
the little lady. 

“ Yes, mum — to Lunnun to see a doctor and put hisself 
under treatment for a spell.” 

“ I am sorry to hear that is necessary. I hope it is 
nothing serious,” said Net. 

“ Bronchitis, mum ! Comes on the squire every 
autumn, mum. He has consented to take advice at 
last, and time, too.” 

” Do the family accompany him up to town ?” 

“ Miss Aspirita do, mum ; but Mr. Brandon stays 
behind at the hall.” 

“ Oh ! Well, Mattingly, please give my best regards 
to your master, and tell him I thank him very much for 
the fine fruit, which we shall be sure to enjoy, and that 
I hope his visit to London will benefit his health.” 

“ Yes, mum.” 

“ Kit will empty the basket and return it to you.” 

“ Yes, mum. My duty to you, mum. Good-day,” 


A SHOCK. 


327 


said the gardener, as he shouldered the basket again 
and took it into the kitchen, where Net heard him say 
to Kit ; 

“Come, my good gell, look sharp, empty this fruit 
and give me my basket.” 

“ Oh, ’deed, then ! Oi ’m thinking if yo knawed who 
was who, yo moightn’t be ordering me around so free 
and easy. Ho, moy foine gentleman gardener ! Yo 
may be tekking yor orders from me some of these 
days,” said Kit, bridling. 

“ Whatever does the lass mean said the gardener, 
as he took the empty basket from her hand and went 
off without waiting for an explanation. 

“ Eh ! He 'll knaw wot t’ lass means before many 
days be over his head !” said Kit, triumphantly. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

A SHOCK. 

Till now her soul has been 
All glad and gay ; 

Bid it awake and look 
At grief to-day ! 

No shade has come between 
Her and the sun ; 

Like some long childish dream 
Her life has run ; 

But now the stream has reached 
A dark, deep sea, 

* And Sorrow, dim and crowned. 

Is waiting. — See ! A. A. Proctor. 

Lady Arielle Montjoie’s acute attack of illness was 
but the effect of the painful excitement she had suf- 
fered on the occasion of her betrothal to Brandon Coyle, 


828 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


acting upon a delicate and sensitive frame already 
reduced by sorrow and anxiety. 

In a few days she recovered her strength sufficiently 
to re-appear down stairs. 

Then she heard from her grandfather the particulars 
of Brandon Coyle’s visit to him in regard to the appoint- 
ment of the wedding-day, and of the earl’s decision 
that the marriage should not take place until the ex- 
piration of the year of mourning for the old countess, 
unless indeed some urgent necessity — such as the ill- 
ness or impending death of the earl — should arise to 
hasten the ceremony. 

The aged nobleman, who quite mistook the senti- 
ments of the young lady upon the subject of her union 
with the present suitor, spoke very apologetically of 
the delay, saying gently : 

“ You know, my dear child, that we owe this much 
respect to the memory of your grandmother, and as 
you and your affianced husband are both so young, you 
can well afford to wait a few months for the consum- 
mation of your happiness. It is not really a year now ; 
it is only about nine months.” 

“ I am perfectly willing — indeed, I am best satisfied 
to wait, dear grandpapa,” answered Arielle sincerely ; 
for really, if Lord Altofaire had been willing for her to 
do so, she would gladly have waited the length of her 
life rather than have married Brandon Coyle, or any 
other man. 

And pleased with this delay of her wedding, as with 
a reprieve from impending execution, and having in 
view a possibility of final deliverance — her spirits rose 
and her health began to improve. 

Brandon Coyle, though an anxious suitor, was not an 
exacting lover. He visited his betrothed only about 
two or three times a week and made his visits short. 


A SHOCK. 


329 


Arielle always received him with politeness and 
treated him with consideration ; but she shrank, invol- 
untarily, from every lover-like advance from him. 

If ever, at meeting or at parting, he attempted to 
salute her, she drew away from him, saying : 

“ Don’t, please,” in a tone of distress and with a look 
of repugnance that could not be mistaken for mere 
prudery, or for anything else but antipathy. 

This behavior, though it somewhat mortified his self- 
love, rather pleased Coyle than otherwise ; for he would 
have found it exceedingly distasteful to play the part 
of an ardent lover to this fading young beauty, who had 
no longer any personal attractions for him. So long as 
he felt sure of her hand and her fortune, he did not 
care whether he had her heart or not. On the contrary 
he felt relieved from a disagreeable duty when he 
learned by repeated experience that she desired no 
“ love-making ” from him at all. 

“ Come,” he said to himself, with one of his hyena 
laughs, as he left the castle one day after a formal call 
on his betrothed, “ it is quite clear that she cares no 
more for me than I do for her ! She consents to marry 
me to please her old governor, while I force myself to 
take the little wreck to forward my own fortunes. If 
it is annoying to her to receive my caresse.s, I am sure 
that it is irksome to me to offer them. So we are even 
there, and no love lost between us ! 'We shall never be 
an exacting pair, nor make each other miserable by 
jealousy — that is certain !” 

So Brandon Coyle subsided into the mere friendly 
visitor he had been before the betrothal, when his soci- 
ety had pleased Arielle for her grandfather’s sake. 

But he stayed away from the castle as often as he 
dared ; much of his time was spent elsewhere, as we 
have discovered. 


330 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


There were hours, however, when he grew dissatis- 
fied with his position and disgusted with the world. 

“ What incongruities there are in nature and life, 
to be sure,” he said to himself, with a hideous laugh, 
as he left the company of the “ Missing Link ” to make 
a duty call on his betrothed — “ what absurd incongru- 
ities ! Grand creatures should be in grand positions, 
and petty ones in obscurity. This handsome Chris- 
telle, with her splendid physique, should have the train- 
ing, wealth and title of a peeress, while this mere shred 
of a girl, the future Countess of Altofaire in her own 
right, should be hidden in some humble home, where 
her pallid face and hollow cheeks could not shock 
aesthetic taste. But, by the way, I shall have to get my 
magnificent creature — my 

‘Queen of noble nature’s crowning^,’ 

away from this neighborhood. She is getting trouble- 
some in her demands to be ‘ interdooced to her fowks- 
in-law and med a leddy on ’ — poor wretch ! Besides 
the nights are growing cold and damp, and I shall 
catch rheumatism hanging about that wet lane ; for 
though I have lived in this horrid climate ever since I 
was a boy, I have never got acclimated. But how on 
earth shall I get the girl away, and where shall I put 
her ? And why don’t the old earl die, or do some- 
thing ? He seems to have formed a fixed habit of liv- 
ing on ! And presently Valdimir Desparde will be 
coming home to frustrate all my plans. There never 
was a fellow so persecuted by fate as I am !” 

It was as yet early when Brandon Coyle arrived at 
Castle Montjoie ; but he was at once admitted and 
shown into the morning-room, where he found the carl 
and his granddaughter seated at the table. 


A SHOCK. 


331 


“ In a good hour !” exclaimed the old nobleman, ris- 
ing and holding out his hand. 

“ I have invited myself to breakfast with you, my 
lord,” said Brandon Coyle, after the usual greetings 
were over. 

“ Delighted to have you, my boy. Adams, a warm 
plate for Mr. Brandon ! Take this chair near the fire. 
The mountain air is cold at this season. There was a 
heavy frost last night, I am told. And I know you 
have a chilly constitution,” said the earl, chattering on 
with the garrulity of age. 

Brandon Coyle bowed and took the proffered seat. 

He looked at Lady Arielle, who had received his 
greeting with her usual coldness, and he perceived 
that she was even paler and quieter than usual. 

“What is the matter now ?” he inquired of himself. 
“ I hope she is not going to be ill again ! She herself 
might drop off !” 

The approach of Adams, with a warm plate and a 
venison steak on a chafing-dish, interrupted his mental 
soliloquy, while the next words of the earl explained 
the probable cause of the young lady’s present depres- 
sion, to Brandon Coyle’s apprehension at least. 

“ We have news this morning ! A telegram from 
Liverpool announcing the arrival of Beaudevere and 
his party, by the steamer Amazon from New York. 
Landed late last night. Telegraphed me this morning. 
Will be in London to-night and at Cloudland on Satur- 
day !” said the old nobleman, in a childishly exulting 
tone. 

Brandon Coyle trembled. 

“ Any news — ” he began in a voice he could scarcely 
control or keep from faltering — “ any news of — of — ” 

“ His vagabond heir ?” inquired the earl, helping the 
questioner out. “ Yes, or rather a hint of news. Where 


332 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET, 


is the telegram, Adams ? Ah, yes !” he added, taking 
the printed strip from the hands of the attentive foot- 
man and adjusting his spectacles, while he read the 
message, according to the formula then prevalent in 
the country : 

‘‘ From Lord Beaudevere, Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool, 
to the Earl of Altofaire, Montjoie Castle, Miston, 
County of Cumberland. — Arrived here safe late last 
night, per steamship Amazon, from New York on the 
15th. Shall leave for London by midday train to- 
morrow. Expect to be at Cloudland on Saturday. 
Strange news of V. D. Must reserve it until we meet.” 

” There ! there it is ! You see he telegraphed me as 
soon as the office was open this morning, or I should 
not have got his message so early. He thought first of 
me, his old friend ! ‘ What a thing friendship is, world 

without end,’ as Mr. Browning writes. And what a 
thing our friendship is, to have stood the shock of such 
an event as the flight of Valdimir Desparde, under the 
circumstances in which it was taken ! And talking 
of V. D., as Beaudevere calls him — of course, no news 
of him could possibly interest us now, as Beaudevere 
ought to know. And, indeed, I think it rather bad 
taste in Beaudevere, if he is my old neighbor and tried 
friend, to have alluded to the young vagabond at all, 
under the circumstances ! Adams ! close that door ! 
There’s a horrid draught ! And go and tell Lacy 
to fetch Lady Arielle a shawl. My dear child, you 
really should dress warmer at this season ! The first 
cool days of autumn are more prolific of colds than the 
severest weather of the winter. You are shivering now, 
m)’- dear, and your lips are quite blue.” 

If the garrulous old earl had noticed he could have 


A SHOCK. 


333 


seen that some one else was shivering^ with blue lips 
besides Lady Arielle, and that was Brandon Coyle. 

So powerful was the effect of this telegram upon him 
that he could scarcely sit out the breakfast, and he 
could make no pretence of eating. 

“ Why, my dear boy, you are eating no breakfast at 
all. You have let your venison grow quite cold. Ad- 
ams ! another chafing-dish for Mr. Brandon ! Quick !” 

“ Thanks, no. I beg you will not. I — I really have 
no appetite,” answered the young man, arousing himself 
by an effort. 

“ What ? No appetite after such a long ride this 
morning? Tut, tut, tut, that will never do — will never 
do ! I don’t know what has come to the young men of 
this generation ! They are all as delicate as so many 
fine ladies ! Eh, then, we must have you up to Skol, if 
we all live to see another summer ! There you'will get 
an appetite that will last yoti all the year round ! There 
they raise appetites for the markets — strong, stout 
appetites that will bear the wear and tear of even a Lon- 
don season ! Appetites are their only articles of expor- 
tation ! Eh, Arielle, my dear ? Ha, ha, ha !” 

And the old gentleman laughed within himself with 
the senile mirth of extreme age. 

Arielle answered only by a quiet smile, and her grand- 
father seemed to expect nothing more definite. 

Brandon Coyle arose to take leave. 

“ What ! Not going already !” exclaimed the earl. 

“ Indeed yes, to my great regret.” 

“ But I thought you would have spent some hours 
with us ?” 

‘‘ As I should do with the greatest pleasure, my 
lord, were it not for a pressure of business. I am in 
this neighborhood on affairs of my uncle, and I may say 
that I have s/cf/e/i the time to drop in here at this hour, 


334 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


knowing that 1 should not have the leisure to do so 
later,” said Brandon Coyle, who — to use the plain but 
expressive language of poor Kit — “ could lie faster than 
a horse could trot.” 

“ Well, well, if you must go, why, you must. Business 
must be attended to,” exclaimed the earl. ‘‘Good-morn- 
ing. Good-morning. But stay. You know Beaude- 
vere is to be at Cloudland on Saturday ?” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“ I am going down on that day to meet him there — 
do you mark me ? I am going to meet him there !” said 
the earl, with the inconsequent repetition and emphasis 
of dotage. 

“ Yes, my lord, I think it would be well for you to go,” 
exclaimed Brandon Coyle, with cheerful alacrity — “z// 
permit you to do so," he added within himself. 

“ So I want you to join us at Cloudland on next 
Saturday.” 

“ With pleasure, my lord — if we all live to see the day." 

“ You know you are sufficiently intimate with the 
family to go there to welcome them, without waiting for 
an invitation.” 

‘‘ I should hope so.” 

“ Well, that is for Saturday. Keep yourself disen- 
gaged. And now for to-morrow. Have you any 
engagement ? ’ 

“ None, my lord.” 

“ Then come to-morrow and lunch with us, to make 
amends for your abrupt departure this morning. Will 
you do s® V' 

“ With the greatest pleasure — that will suit my pur- 
poses to a nicety." 

The first part of this answer was spoken aloud. The 
second part was muttered in the voiceless depths of his 
own mind. 


A SHOCK. 


335 


“ There, then. That is all right. I will not detain 
you a moment longer.” 

“Good-morning, my lord,” said the visitor, with a 
deep bow. 

“ Good-morning, my dear boy.” 

Brandon Coyle then turned to Lady Arielle, and with 
as much gallantry as he could assume he took her thin, 
white hand, and would have raised it to his lips, but 
she snatched it away with a shudder that ran through 
all her frame. 

He did not love her, and did not care for her love, 
but bis vanity was wounded by her undisguised repug- 
nance. 

“ What in the demon does the little moth mean ? I 
am not poison, I suppose !” he growled within himself, 
as he turned and left the breakfast-room. 

“ You were not kind to Brandon, my love,” said the 
earl, shaking his gray head, after witnessing this little 
passage. 

“ Was I not ? I did not intend to be unkind, but 
what was the use of his kissing my hand ? Such non- 
sense !” said Arielle, with disgust and abhorrence. 

“ Whew !” whistled the old man softly to himself. 

“ And I hate him to kiss my hand, and I always have 
the trouble of going and washing it afterwards !” 

“ Whee-m.'” whistled the grandfather, a little more 
softly and slowly than before. 

In the meanwhile Brandon Coyle rode thoughtfully 
out of the castle yard.” 

“Affairs are approaching a crisis with me. The next 
three days will ‘ make me or unmake me quite.’ Now 
for pluck ! There must be no hesitation now ! I must 
act firmly and promptly ! I must go up to town to-day. 
If they miss me at Caveland they will only think that I 
have gone for a days shooting through Honeythorn 


336 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Park,” he mused, as he set spurs to his horse and rode 
rapidly down the bridle-path leading down the moun- 
tain side — rode reckless of danger, without stopping, 
until he drew rein on the sandy beach below. 

He stopped a few moments to breathe his horse, and 
then rode rapidly on towards Miston without pausing 
until he reached the Dolphin inn. 

There he alighted and left the animal in the care of 
the hostler, and walked on to the Miston railway sta- 
tion, which he reached just in time to catch the ii a. m, 
train to London, where he arrived at 9 p. m. 

He took a cab at the station and drove down to Ox- 
ford street, where he paid and dismissed it. Then he 
walked a few blocks, lounged into Very’s, got dinner, 
sauntered out, hailed another cab and drove down to 
the Strand, paid and discharged this second vehicle, 
walked a short distance and hailed a stage that was 
going to the Borough. There he got out and walked 
to an obscure chemist’s shop, where he purchased a 
certain drug, which he put carefully away in his pocket- 
book ; then, using the same precautions to elude any 
pursuit or detection, real or imaginary, he made his 
way back to the railway station in time to take the n 
p. M. train north, and finally reached Miston at 9 a. m., 
in time to rush home to Caveland and dress for his 
engagement at Castle Montjoie. 

It was nearly one o’clock when he rode into the castle 
yard, where the first object that met his eyes was the 
Cloudland carriage, with the Beaudevere arms inlaid 
upon its panels. 

His guilty soul quaked. 

“Ah !’’ he exclaimed, “ the old muff has arrived two 
days before his time ! He must have changed his mind 
suddenly and followed his own telegram ! Now the 
game is up !’’ 


A SHOCK. 


337 


With a desperation that would know the worst at 
once, Brandon Coyle threw himself from his saddle, 
cast the bridle to a groom who came up to attend him, 
and went up the stairs leading to the portals. 

He was admitted by the hall footman, who opened the 
door of a morning-room on the left, and announced : 

“ Mr, Brandon Coyle,” 

His head reeled and his sight failed for a moment as 
he found himself in a small circle composed of Lord 
Altofaire, Lady Arielle Montjoie, Lord Beaudevere, 
and Miss Vivienne Desparde. 

Before he could recover himself, however, a joyous 
voice fell on his ear, and a strong hand struck his palm, 
as Lord Beaudevere stood before him with words of 
hearty greeting. 

” Delighted to see you, Brandon, my boy. Ah ! you 
don’t know how glad I am to meet all my friends again. 
I congratulated you upon your engagement to the 
loveliest girl in the United Kingdom,” concluded the 
baron, finally releasing the young man, who now went 
forward to pay his respects to the earl and the two 
young ladies. 

He was still -in a maze. The shock of seeing Lord 
Beaudevere ’s carriage before the castle doors ; dread of 
what he might have divulged ; astonishment at his 
lordship’s totally unexpected cordiality — all these had 
so unhinged and demoralized the man’s nerves and 
brain that he could not at once control his faculties. 
Lunch was hailed as a relief to his embarrassment. 

It was after lunch when the two girls had withdrawn 
to Lady Arielle’s private apartments for a confidential 
chat, and the three gentlemen had gone out upon the 
terrace to enjoy their afternoon cigars, that the exact 
nature of the strange news concerning Valdimir 
Desparde came to Brandon Coyle’s ears. 


338 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ We did not like to discuss it before Arielle, who is 
still sensitive ; but the facts, as Beaudevere gave them 
to me this morning when he first came and before my 
child joined us, are these : That Valdimir has married 
a low-born lass, as we had heard before ; but what is 
news to us is, that he is living in America under an 
assumed name — Jonathan Adams — and that he has lost 
his child and his young wife down in New Orleans, 
where a terrible pestilence is raging, and where he 
seems to be trying to throw away his life in nursing the 
plague-stricken patients. There is the news in brief. 
It does the boy credit, upon the whole. I am glad to 
know it. It justifies my life-long good opinion of the 
lad, that even the shock of his unexampled flight could 
not wholly destroy. He has probably fallen a victim to 
the fever before this time, poor boy ! As it is better 
for him that he should. Yes, much better !” gravely 
added the earl. 

“ No — no ! Hang it, nothing of the sort. The boy 
will live to redeem himself. Bless my soul, old neigh- 
bor, he is my heir, you know. And without him the old 
barony of Beaudevere will fall into abeyance, or become 
extinct, at my death !” said Lord Beaudevere, with 
great earnestness, but without the least ill feeling. 

“ True ! true ! I beg your pardon, old friend ! I had 
forgotten. I do often forget in these days. Still it was 
a deep fall for a Desparde — that low marriage !” 

“ Oh, well ! The girl is gone and the child is gone, 
and it is as if it never had been. That marriage need 
never be entered into the Red Book ; it must be ignored 
and forgotten. I shall welcome my boy with open 
arms on his return, and so doubtless will you, old 
neighbor. Why, do you suppose if these were not my 
feelings about Valdimir that I could be as happy as I 
am at present ? No, indeed ! Not even my home com- 


A SHOCK. 


339 


ing could make me so ! We will both welcome our 
prodigal with joy !” 

“Yes, yes, certainly,’’ said the aged earl, with feeble 
acquiescence. 

The baron looked at him with more attention, and 
then sighed deeply, for he saw, for the first time, how 
fast his old friend was falling into dotage. 

Brandon Coyle had not engaged in this discussion, 
except by turning from one speaker ^to the other, with 
an eagerness of attention very flattering to both. 

The news that he heard was a complete relief to his 
mind. 

Valdimir Desparde, in a plague-stricken city, nursing 
pauper patients with quixotic devotion ! Sure to throw 
away his life by falling a victim to the fever, let Lord 
Beaudevere say what he would. What a red-letter day 
this had been to Brandon Coyle ! To be elevated from 
the depths of despair to the heights of hope ! 

He left Castle Montjoie, that afternoon, a happier 
.man than he had been for months. 

And though it came on to rain towards evening, he 
went that night to visit Kit. 

But “ the way of the transgressor is hard,’’ — for the 
very next morning he stumbled over a coal-scuttle in 
leaving the kitchen, and came to be discovered by Net, 
as we have recorded in a former chapter. 

Under what pledge he was allowed to go free has 
been also told, and now his chief concern was how to 
evade the promise he had given and how to get away 
his victim— poor, witless Kit. 


CHAPTER XXXr. 


THE SHADOW OF FATE, 

A grief without a pang — void, dark and drear — 

A stifled, shadowy, unimpassioned grief. 

Which finds no natural outlet, no relief. 

In word, or sigh, or tear. Coleridge. 

It was an eventful week at the cottage in the lane, as 
well as at the castle on the mount. On Saturday some- 
thing happened at the cottage. 

Peter Ken generally fetched the mail from the post- 
office, but if he happened to be very busy about any- 
thing else, or Kit chanced to have any errand of her 
own at the village, she went and fetched it. 

On this Saturday it fell to the girl’s lot to go. She 
found nothing in the office but the Miston Record, which 
was not done up in an envelope, but was just folded 
and directed on the margin to Mrs. Adrian Fleming. 

Kit had all the curiosity of her sex and class, and as 
soon as she got out of the village and into the privacy 
of the Church Lane she unfolded the paper, and walk- 
ing slowly, spelled out the news as she went — first of 
The Court. — How Her Majesty would soon leave 
Windsor Castle for Buckingham Palace, and when 
r Idol 


THE SHADOW OF FATE. 


341 


their Royal Highnesses, the princes and princesses so 
and so, drove or dined. Then she passed on to the 
Marriages and Deaths, and finally to the Society News. 
How the Right Honorable the Baron Beaiidevere and 
Miss Desparde had returned from their foreign travel 
and were staying at the seat of his lordship at Cloud- 
land ; Mr. Coyle, of Caveland, and Miss Coyle had left 
home for London, and so on. 

Kit spelled through all this painfully, but without 
much edification. 

At length, however, she spelled her way down to a 
paragraph that made her stop short and opened her 
mouth with suspended breath, and then run down the 
lane, tear open the garden gate, rush on to the cottage, 
da.sh open the door and dash into the parlor and into 
her mistress’s presence, where she stood with heaving 
bosom, flashing eyes, and glowing cheeks. 

“ Kit, what is the matter ? What has come to )mu, 
my girl ?” inquired Net, in surprise, looking up from 
the needle-work upon which she was engaged. 

“ Oh, Mistress Net, he ’s a grend vilyun ! Oi ’ll hev 
his loife, Oi wull ! Look here. Mistress Net ! Look 
here ! It ’s all in the pepper ! — Look here !” exclaimed 
the wild creature, holding out the paper, placing her 
finger upon a paragraph. 

“ Sit down. Kit,” said the young lady ; and when her 
handmaid had dropped upon a hassock at her feet, she 
read, with surprise and disgust, the following notice : 

“ Hymenial. — It is rumored that Mr. Brandon Coyle 
of Caveland, is soon to lead to the hymenial altar the 
beautiful and accomplished Lady Arielle Montjoie, 
youngest and sole surviving — ” 

“ Noo, THEN !” fiercely interrupted the young savage, 
her eyes flashing blue lightning. “ Doan’t thet mean 


342 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


he ’s goan to merry ’er, wen he ’s awreddy merried to 
me ?” 

“ No, Kit, not necessarily. It only means that there 
is such a report ; but — ” 

“ ’Fore he shud do thet Oi ’d tek his loife ! Oi wud ! 
Oi wud ! Oi wud, if Oi swung for it !” cried the girl, 
lowering her brows until her eyes gleamed under them, 
and showing all her teeth with tigerish ferocity. 

“Hush this moment. Kit! You must not say such 
wicked and violent things. Besides, there is nothing 
in this to excite such feelings in your breast. We can- 
not rely on these newspaper reports. As for myself, I 
do not believe one word of this !’’ 

“Yo dunnot. Mistress Net'? Yo dunnot ?’’ anx- 
iously demanded the girl. 

“ No, indeed, I do not. I do not believe there is one 
word of truth in this report. I do not believe Lady 
Arielle Montjoie would stoop to marry Brandon Coyle 
if it were to save his life, or even her own !’’ 

“Jest to thenk o’ th’ burning wickedness o’ putting 
sich loies in th’ verry prented pepper itself ! Eggre- 
vetting people to commet sen !’’ 

And saying this she jumped up and flung herself out 
of the room, and was next heard singing in the attic 
overhead, as she took off her bonnet and shawl. 

For the time being she seemed soothed and reassured, 
and she came down into the kitchen and went about 
her double task of getting tea for that evening and 
cooking dinner for the next day, on which, as it would 
be the Sabbath, no unnecessary work was to be done 
in the little household. 

But long after her mistress had gone to bed Kit sat 
at the kitchen table with a tallow candle, a sheet of 
yellow paper, a bottle of ink and a stumpy quill pen, 
writing a letter under great difficulties. 


THE SHADOW OF FATE. 


343 


“And noo," she muttered, as she folded it, “Oi 
reckon as Oi ’ll pit a spoke in moy gentlum’s wheel !” 

Kit was a regular attendant in the parish church, 
where she went not only for the religious services, but 
also for the sake of her parents and kindred, who were 
always to be found in their places on Sunday morning. 

So on that Sunday Kit went to church with her mis- 
tress, as usual. 

But after the services were over she might have been 
observed to go up to her youngest brother, Jack Ken, 
who was stable-boy at the Dolphin inn, and draw a 
clumsily folded letter from her pocket and give it to 
him, with whispered directions, which he seemed to 
understand, for he nodded intelligently and hid the 
letter in his bosom, 

Thursday came. But two days remained of the 
week of probation. 

That day Kit went about the house more tearful and 
depressed than Net had ever known her to be. 

Late in the afternoon these symptoms had increased 
to such a degree that Net felt obliged to notice them. 

“ What is the matter, child ? Are you not well ?’’ 

“Yes, Mistress Net, Oi 'm well enoof,” she answered 
gloomily. 

“What troubles you, then. Kit ?’’ 

“Oh, Mistress Net, Oi dunnot knaw ! Summat seems 
hangging over me — oh, so heavy ! Oi ’m saying to 
moyself all the toime the childer’s play words — ‘ heavy, 
heavy hangs over this poor head ’ — only Oi ’m not a 
saying of ’em in play. Mistress Net,’’ replied the girl. 

“You are in low spirits. Cheer up ! Only one more 
day and then your troubles will be over, I hope,” said 
Net, to rouse the poor creature from her gloom. 

“Mebby so. Mistress Net, but ‘heavy, heavy hangs 
over this poor head.’ ’’ 


344 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


At ten o’clock Net arose, and said ; 

“ I am going to bed, Kit, and I advise you to do the 
same. Bring your mattress, if you like, and sleep in my 
room.” 

“ No, Mistress Net, Oi wunnot do thet. Good noight, 
Mistress Net,” said the girl, suddenly catching the little 
lady’s hand and kissing it passionately — a thing that she 
had never done before. 

“ Kit !” said the little mistress, as a sharp pang of 
anxiety shot through her heart — “ Kit ! have you seen that 
man? Has he been troubling you before the time ?” 

“ No, no. Mistress Net. Oi hev nuther seen him nor 
heard on him, not once since that day I promised you. 
And Oi wish Oi ’d never seen him, Oi do ! Oi 'm fain to 
be sick of the thots of him, or of being a leddy ! Oh, 
Mistress Net, Oi ’d give it all oop, the leddyship, and 
the gre’t hoose, and all, ef Oi could hev the old peace of 
moind I hed before Oi ever saw Mr. Brendin Corle. No, 
Mistress Net, Oi hevn’t seen him since. No, Mistress, 
it aint that. It’s ‘heavy, heavy hangs over my poor 
head.’ Good-noight, Mistress Net.” 

“ Good-night, my poor Kit. Say your prayers and 
try to go to sleep.” 

Kit went up to her attic, and the little lady retired to 
her chamber. 

But keen anxiety for Kit kept Net awake for a long 
time that night. 

Hour after hour she lay painfully speculating as to the 
cause of the girl’s unprecedented gloom and despon- 
dency, and devising plans for her welfare. 

She wondered whether Brandon Coyle meant to keep 
his promise to Kit, and she felt almost sure that he 
would not, unless compelled to do so. 

Harassed by these thoughts. Net lay awake until near 
morning, when she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. 


THE SHADOW OF FATE. 


345 


and then, as always follows in such cases, she slept long 
and late. 

She was roused from a deep sleep, late in the day, by 
a loud knocking. 

She started up from her pillow, sat up in bed and lis- 
tened. The knocking she heard was at the back door. 

She threw on her dressing-gown, thrust her feet into 
slippers, and went out to open the door, wondering who 
it was that was so clamorous for admittance, and where 
Kit could be that she did not attend to the summons. 

Another surprise met her in the parlor ; late as it 
was, the fire had not been kindled, nor the windows 
opened. 

She hurried through to the kitchen, where the knock- 
ing continued. 

The kitchen was even colder than the parlor — and 
the little range colder than either. 

Wondering at all these things. Net hastened to open 
the back door. 

There stood Peter Ken, in not the best humor. 

“ Good-morning, and my duty to yo. Mistress. Wot ’s 
come to Kit, as she didn't open t’ door ? Oi hev been 
a knocking 'most an hour, I reckon,” said the boy. 

“ Kit was not well last night. I fear she may be sick 
this morning. Run up stairs and knock at her door 
and call her,” said the little lady, shivering with cold, 
as she hurried back into her chamber to get a shawl 
and to order the children to remain in bed until the 
fires should be made. 

As she returned to the kitchen she met Peter. 

“ How did )mu find Kit ?” inquired Net. 

“ Please, mum, she ain’t up there. Her door was wide 
open, so I made bold to look in, but she weren’t there, 
nor yet in any o’ the front rooms up stairs, for I looked 
into all on ’em.” 


346 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“ How very strange !” exclaimed Net, with a sudden 
sinking of the heart, as she remembered the peculiar 
manner of the girl on the preceding night. 

On examining her chamber all her effects were found 
in their usual places, with the exception of her hat and 
cloak, which were both gone. 

Net was deeply distressed and utterly perplexed, 

' There was but one fact connected with the disappear- 
ance of Kit about which she felt absolutely certain, and 
that was that Brandon Coyle had carried her off — either 
willingly or unwillingly on her part. 

Net was brave in every respect except in one— she 
was afraid to cause any evil ; she shrank with horror 
and loathing from the thought of even remotely and 
innocently causing violence or crime. 

Therefore, she did not dare to tell what she knew, or 
hint what she suspected^ to any one, lest these should 
get to the ears of the brothers Ken, who, she felt sure, 
would not hesitate to slay their sister’s destroyer. 

Net prayed and waited for light. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

A CRISIS. 

And if we do but watch the hour. 

There never yet was human power 

That could evade if unforgiven 

The patient search and vigil long 

Of one who suffers under wrong. Byron. 

“ Now that Arielle’s future is secured, so far at least 
as human foresight can secure it, I am only waiting — 
waiting for the last great change ; and feeling, some- 


A CRISIS, 


347 


how, as I used to feel in boyhood on the eve of a holi- 
day,” said the old earl of Altofaire, one bright autumn 
morning, when he and his granddaughter were on a visit 
to the Baron of Beaudevere and Miss Desparde, 

The two young ladies had gone out together for a 
stroll around the grounds, and the two old friends were 
seated together in the library of Cloudland. 

“ And you are quite satisfied with the prospective 
bridegroom ?” suggested Lord Beaudevere, more, per- 
haps, for the purpose of bringing the aged nobleman’s 
soaring thoughts down to practical life again than from 
any lurking disapprobation that he himself entertained 
of the contemplated marriage, or any doubts of the old 
earl’s sentiments. 

“ I am quite satisfied, so far as the personal merits 
of the young gentleman are concerned ; he is distin- 
guished in appearance and manners ; he is intellectual 
and moral — very moral. No one ever heard of Brandon 
Coyle at a gaming table, at a race course, in a drinking 
saloon, or in any sort of evil company. His family, 
also, if not noble, or very old, are, at least, highly 
respectable,” said Lord Altofaire, 

“ I should think so. The Coyles of Caveland have 
been landed proprietors in the county for five genera- 
tions, The old squire is in succession the sixth, and 
Mr, Brandon Coyle will be the seventh,” put in Lord 
Beaudevere. 

“ Yes, yes, it is seven generations past since the first 
squire, who had made his fortune in an iron foundry, 
bought the ground and built Caveland House,” remarked 
the earl, in a ruminating tone, 

“ Oh, well,” laughed the baron, “ the founders of 
most of our noble houses were not so respectable. My 
own ancestor, I know, was a private soldier in the Nor- 
man army ; and if Vivienne, who is quite an anti- 


348 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


quarian, may be credited, he was also corn-cutter to the 
Conqueror, He made his fortune by covering fields 
with human gore, for which he won lands and titles 
from the Norman Invader, and the sobriquet of Bloody 
Beaue from the ill-fated Saxon victims. There is not 
much to choose in our founders.” 

“ Hum — hum — yet I could have wished this young 
man, with all his other excellent qualities, had had a 
clearer and older lineage. However, I am better satis- 
fied that my last descendant and sole heiress should 
marry a commoner of good family than merge the 
ancient earldom won in Palestine under Richard the 
Lion-hearted in some modern dukedom or marquisate 
decorated with the bend sinister, or gained in political or 
financial chicanery.” 

“You are severe, Earl!” laughed the good-humored 
baron. 

“ I am behind the times — nearly a century befiind the 
times, that is all, and that is why I am content that my 
child shall be and remain the Countess of Altofaire in 
her own right, rather than merge the old historic title 
in that of Duchess of This, or Marchioness of. The 
Other. Brandon Coyle will assume, upon his marriage, 
the name and arms of Montjoie. The eldest son of that 
marriage, should the young couple be blessed with 
progeny, will be Viscount Montjoie and future Earl of 
Altofaire. The earldom will then be carried down to 
posterity. For myself, I am not very far from ninety 
years of age ; I am waiting for my summons as a child 
waits to be called home from school — only I would like 
to live a few months longer, till th6 year of mourning 
.shall have expired, so that I could celebrate the mar- 
riage of my last descendant and sole heiress in a manner 
becoming her rank, as I shall do if I live until next 
autumn. If, however, shall be called home before 


A CRISIS. 


349 


that, I must have Arielle married quietly and speedily 
as possible — at my bedside, if there be time given me, 
if not, then immediately after my funeral. I have made 
my will, Beaudevere, and appointed you her guardian. 
You will see my wishes in this respect carried out, if it 
becomes necessary.” 

“ Of course ; but let us look forward to your contin- 
ued life, with a wedding next autumn !” said the baron. 

“ But I am old — I am very old.” 

“ And an observing philosopher has said that ‘ no 
one is so old that he may not live to be one year older.’ ” 

“True, true,” murmured the old nobleman, and he 
fell into rumination and thence into sleep. 

Lord Beaudevere looked at him and sighed to think 
what these sudden and frequent slumbers portended. 

He took up a newspaper to read until the luncheon 
bell should rouse the host. 

The old neighbors were frequently together now ; 
the two families almost entirely depended on each other 
for society in this remote country neighborhood. 

Very few days passed that did not bring the earl and 
his granddaughter to Cloudland, or the baron and his 
ward to Castle Montjoie. 

Now while the earl, unconscious of any impoliteness, 
slumbered with his chin upon his bosom, the baron read 
the paper, and waited for the luncheon bell. 

But there came an interruption before that event. 

The old earl had scarcely slept ten minutes when the 
door was opened by a footman, who announced — 

“ Mr. Brandon Coyle,” and at the same time laid the 
morning mail-bag on the table and retired, closing the 
door behind him. 

The baron arose and greeted his visitor cordially. 

The earl opened his eyes in blissful ignorance that he 
had slept, and he offered his hand to the newcomer. 


350 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


The mail-bag lay neglected on the table. Yet if they 
could have known what was in it ! 

“ Pray do not stand on ceremony with us, my lord. 
Your letters wait,” said Brandon Coyle, politely waving 
his hand towards the satchel. 

“ Well, my dear fellow, let them wait ! Here are the 
girls ! You see, they abandoned us old graybeards ! 
But as soon as you appear, with hyacinthine locks, and 
so on — hey, presto ! how they come !” exclaimed the 
baron, as the two young ladies entered the room. 

“ Oh, Beaue, you shocking, mendacious, hoary-headed, 
aged criminal ! You very unpleasant old English 
nobleman, all of the modern time ! How can you tell 
such stories ?” demanded Vivienne Desparde, saucily. 
“You know very well that you turned us out so that 
you and Lord Altofaire could have a private talk and 
enter into some conspiracy against our peace ! That 
was the reason we went. We saw Adams with the mail- 
bag ; that is the reason we came. How do you do, Mr, 
Brandon ! Don’t you believe a word Beaue says. You 
know, between you and me, Beaue has his little weak- 
ness. He ought to be a novel-writer, then he would 
have a safety-valve for his— well — his — romancing — let 
us call it ! You know, of course, the art of novel-writ- 
ing is only a cultivated talent for lying. Come, Beaue, 
open that mail-bag ! There was nothing whatever in 
the papers this morning ; but maybe there may be 
some spicy gossip in the letters.” 

“ But, my dear,” began the baron, laughing depre- 
catingly. 

“ Oh, Beaue, don't keep every oody in suspense ! 
Open the mail — or let me do it !” exclaimed Vivienne, 
suddenly seizing the bag, touching the spring of the 
lock and turning it upside down to shake out the con- 
tents. 


A CRISIS. 


351 


“Only one letter !’’ she cried in disgust, as she picked 
it up. “ But, oh ! it is from Valdimir ! It is from Val- 
dimir, at last ! It is worth a dozen ! an hundred ! a 
thousand other letters ! Oh, Beaue !’’ she cried, as she 
hurried around to his side of the table. 

“ From Valdimir !” exclaimed the two old gentlemen 
in a breath. 

Arielle dropped into a chair and placed her hand 
upon her wildly throbbing heart. 

Brandon Coyle turned white as death and went and 
looked out of the window to hide his agitation — the 
shock of terror that had fallen on him had nearly over-, 
whelmed him. 

“And yet,” he said to his quaking fears, “this may 
be a harmless letter — a false alarm, as the baron’s 
‘ news ’ turned out to be. I will stay and hear it 
out.” 

He moved towards the group again lest his with- 
drawal might excite remark ; but he took care to stand 
with his back to the light. 

“ Yes, it is from Valdimir ! The first letter I have 
seen from him since the strange, incoherent one he 
wrote on the day of his flight,” said the baron in a voice 
full of deep emotion as he broke the seal. 

“ Read it, neighbor ! Read it aloud ! That is — Oh ! 

I beg your pardon ! if it be admissible to do so ! You 
know I have not lost my interest in the boy, although 
we have lost every other property in him !” exclaimed 
the earl, with great eagerness. 

“ I will read it. It is very short, and— very pointed,” 
said 'the baron, when he had looked over the letter, 
which he was able to take in almost at a glance. 

And while four eager hearers listened with far differ- 
ent feelings, the baron read as follows : 


352 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


“New Orleans, November 15th, 185- 
“ My Dear Lord Beaudevere. — You may think that 
I have forfeited the right to call you my dear cousin, 
and even the right to address you at all, which I should 
not presume to do were I not able to tell you that I 
shall follow this letter by steamer in about ten days, to 
vindicate myself in the estimation of all those beloved 
and honored friends who have mourned over my sup- 
posed defalcation. I will not ask you to pardon me 
now ; but when I see you I will tell you a story, which 
when you have heard you will pardon without being 
asked to do so, or rather, perhaps you will think that 
there has been nothing on my part to pardon, but very 
much in my case to pity. 

“ Pending our meeting with truest affection for your- 
self and fondest love to my sister, and to all who rem|f 
ber and can still regard me, I remain ^ 

“ Your ever obliged and grateful ‘ 

“ Valdimir Desparde\_^ 


“ Well,” thought Brandon Coyle within himself, “ the 
secret is not out yet, though it must be in a^w days, 
when he shall arrive. Come, I have time enough to 
hang myself or to marry Lady Arielle before the 
sion ! Fortunately, I have not got to lose another', 
in going to London to find an out-of-the-way chemt? 
shop !” \ 

“What does he mean, do you suppose, Beaudevere ?” 
inquired the earl. 

“ What story is this that he has to tell, do you suppose, 
Beaue ?” questioned Vivienne. 

Brandon Coyle put no inquiries. 

Arielle was unable to utter a word. 

“ Oh, poor fellow, I suppose he means to explain how 
he got himself entrapped into a low marriage, and to tell 



UKATH OK LOKI) ALTOKAIRE.— Page 370 




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A CRISIS. 


353 


us of his sufferings, of the death of his wife and child, 
and of his expiation, in risking his life in the plague- 
stricken homes of the poor. Of course, that is what he 
means^to tell us, not knowing that we have heard it all 
before,” said Lord Beaudevere, confidently. 

Three of his hearers — the old earl and the two young 
girls — easily accepted this theory ; but Brandon Coyle 
knew that a darker story lurked behind — a story which, 
when told, would utterly crush and destroy him, if he 
did not, by prompt action, make Lady Arielle his wife, 
and so place her between himself and his impending 
prosecutors, who would not aim at him through her 
peace and honor. 

The luncheon bell aroused the little party. 

“The aged earl, with courtly politeness, arose and 
gave Miss Desparde his arm. 

The baron offered the same attention to Lady Arielle. 

Brandon Coyle followed alone, and so the party filed 
into the dining-room. 

The conversation at the luncheon table turned upon 
the absent Valdimir Desparde, no one, not even 
Vivienne, suspecting how painful was the subject to 
Arielle Montjoie, who, since her betrothal to Brandon 
Coyle, had avoided all reference to her former suitor. 

Soon after luncheon was over the party broke up. '• 

“ Remember, Brandon, my boy, you are to dine with 
us to-morrow, to meet our friends,” said Lord Altofaire, 
as he took his seat in his comfortable brougham beside 
Lady Arielle. 

“ It would be impossible to forget such a prospective 
pleasure, my lord,” replied Coyle, who stood at the car- 
riage door making his adieux. 

And so they separated — the earl and the lady driving 
off in their carriage, and Brandon Coyle sailing away 
in his pleasure boat. 


354 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


As soon as he reached the little pier below Caveland 
he moored his boat, jumped ashore, and hurried up to 
the house. 

Tompkins, the hall footman, opened the door. He 
was one of the few servants left at Caveland to look 
after the house and wait on Mr. Brandon during the 
absence of Mr. and Miss Coyle. 

He pushed past the man without speaking, hurried 
up stairs to his own room, locked the door, and threw 
himself into his easy-chair, where, with elbow resting 
on the arm and chin clutched 'in his fingers, he sat 
scowling over the network of evil in which he had 
involved himself. 

Exposure threatened him from two directions — from 
Net Fleming in behalf of poor Kit, and from Valdimir 
Desparde in vindication of his own character. 

Either one of these would be enough to crush him. 

To avoid this ruin, he felt that he must make Lady 
Arielle his wife without delay. 

“ Once married to my lady, they cannot unmarry 
me ! There can be no ground for divorce in all that 
has gone before the marriage, and there can be none 
afterwards, if I keep straight, as I shall do, because it 
will be my interest to do so. When I shall be the hus- 
band of Lady Arielle, her relatives and friends must 
refrain from attacking me, lest they injure her. They 
must condone all my past for her sake. Therefore we 
must be fast married before the discovery. After we 
are married such exposure may annoy, but cannot ruin 
me !” 

Here his thoughts dropped upon a darker theme, 
around which they scarcely dared to take the form even 
of unspoken words, until, at the end of many minutes, 
he muttered, unconsciously : 

“ It must be administered in the sherry wine. There 


A CRISIS. 


355 


is nothing like the nutty aroma of sherry for cloaking 
the scent of bitter almonds that so often betrays the 
presence of the drug. 

“ Let me see. There must be no mistake — no hesita- 
tion — no failure. All must be so well understood and 
arranged beforehand that the action will be secret, 
swift and sure. 

“ Now then : After dinner, when the ladies have 
retired from the table, we three — Beaudevere, Altofaire 
and myself — will be left over our wine; The old earl 
will be sure to call for his famous ’45 sherry. He shall 
have it ! with a finer, nuttier ‘ bouquet ’ in his glass, at 
least, than he ever enjoyed before, or — will ever enjoy 
after ! 

“ But I must manage to handle his glass — to hold it 
up to be filled by the footman. I know a trick of 
sleight-of-hand to serve myself in this emergency. 

“ The earl will drink and drop from his chair. There 
will be a scene — ‘ confusion, distraction, lamentation,’ 
but scarcely surprise. It was to be expected. He was 
very aged ; what more natural than that he should drop 
down with apoplexy ? 

“ And if a faint odor of bitter almonds should linger 
around his gray mustache — why, he had been drinking 
sherry and eating nuts, and so, while 

‘Over the walnuts and the wine,' 

had fallen dead. What more obvious or natural than 
that their aroma should hang around him ? Why, it 
would hang around us all, and so— ha ! ha ! ha !— not 
hang anybody in particular as an evidence of poison.” 

So muttering, he arose and \t^ent to his dressing-case 
that stood upon his bureau, and from its secret drawer 
he took a small parcel tied up in white paper, opened it 
and disclosed a little pasteboard box, opened this and 


356 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


took from it the thinnest, tiniest glass vial ever seen — 
scarcely half an inch in length, no thicker than a bodkin, 
and having a glass stopper no larger than a pin's head. 
It contained about two drops of liquid. 

“ I must see that this stopper works easily,” he said, 
as he turned it in its socket and worked it up and down. 

‘‘All right,” he concluded, as he put it back in its 
case, and locked it up again in the secret drawer of his 
dressing-case. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A CATASTROPHE. 

Naught ’s had, all 's spent, ♦ 

When our desires are gained without content. 

Shakespeare. 

Behind a darker hour ascends. 

Scott. 

On the morning of the day set for the small dinner- 
party at Castle Montjoie, Lady Arielle was seated alone 
in her chamber, engaged on some little article of silk 
embroidery, when her maid Lacy entered, holding a 
small, awkwardly-folded letter in her hand, which she. 
turned over and over and looked at suspiciously as she 
approached and handed it to her mistress, saying : 

” Here is a queer-looking note, my lady, brought by 
a boy from Miston, who says his name is Jack o’ Jim. 
I do not advise you to touch it yourself, my lady. Will 
I read it to your ladyship ? I’m thinking it ’s nubbut a 
begging letter.” 


A CATASTROPHE. 


357 


“ No, Lacy. Give it to me,” said Lady Arielle, 
gently taking the note. 

“ It might do you a mischief, my lady. They people 
down there who send begging letters have always 
got something the matter with them, which mostly it is 
catching. Indeed, my lady, please, it might do you a 
mischief !” 

“ Oh, nonsense, my good girl ! It can do me no 
more harm than it can do you,” said Lady Arielle, with 
a smile, as she broke the three red wafers with which 
the note was firmly though rudely sealed, and began to 
scan its co.ntents. 

The inside of the letter was a scrawl almost illegible 
and incomprehensible from bad writing and worse 
spelling. 

As Arielle read, the smile died from her face and a 
frown gathered on her fair forehead. She looked per- 
plexed and distressed, as well she might ; for this is 
what she read : 

” Mistress Leddy Ariel, Meddum. — Dunnot yo 
thenk to go to merry Muster Brendon Corle wot hev 
been merrid to me ewer sin told maister was buried in 
Miston churchyod, wot hev got merridge loines to 
proove. Dunnot yo let him deceeve yo wi his loies, 
which (he hev told me enoof to sink a ship. Oime his 
lawful woife, wuss luck and sorry the day it was redd 
over us ; but dunnot yo go and be tuk in by he. Oi 
wur Christelle Ken fore I was merrid, wot fowk cawed 
kitojim becaws me feyther wur jimken the fisherman, 
but noo wose the day it wur dun Oime the lawful 
Leddy Brenden corle. Oime thenking yo wunnut 
beleeve me, but Mistress Net knaws it for the truth. 
Oi beg and prey yo go and ask Mistress net. Oime 
yores to commend Leddy Brendon Corle.” 


358 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


It took the earl’s granddaughter some time to de- 
cipher the hieroglyphics of this strange letter, and to 
guess the meaning after she had puzzled out the words. 

“ Where did you get this ?" she inquired of her maid, 
while still too much bewildered to think or feel clearly 
upon the subject. 

“ From a red-haired, freckle-faced lad, who gave his 
name as Jack o’ Jim,” answered the maid. 

“ One of the writer’s brothers, I suppose,” said Lady 
Arielle, referring to the cabalistic ” kitojim ” and ” jim- 
ken ” in the letter. 

“ I do not know, my lady. When I asked him who 
he was, he answered ‘ Jack o’ Jim,’ and that was all.” 

” Where is the boy ?” 

” Gone, my lady. I asked him if there was an 
answer, and he said he did not know, and he ran off as 
if he was afraid of being stopped. He seepied to be 
very stupid, my lady. Shall I send one of the grooms 
on horseback to overtake him and fetch him back ?” 

‘‘ Oh, no, that is not at all necessary. This letter 
does not require immediate attention. You may go 
now, Lacy, and you need not come in again until I ring 
for you,” said Lady Arielle. 

The maid withdrew from the room, and the mistress 
resumed the study of that strange letter. 

She knew the name of Christelle Ken and Kit o’ Jim 
as appertaining to Net Fleming’s handsome maid- 
servant, but she was deeply shocked and confused by 
the letter. She could not understand it, she could not 
believe in it, she could not realize it as a fact. The 
item that seemed the greatest approach to reality in it 
was the solemn reference to Net Fleming : 

” Oi beg and prey yo go and ask Mistress Net.” 

What could this mean ? Could there be any real 
foundation for the incredible statements made in this 


A CATASTROPHE. 


359 


letter ? Was it even possible that Brandon Coyle could 
have so forgotten himself as to have become intimate 
enough with this girl as to have married her ? 

“ But, Heaven of heavens ! Why not ?” suddenly 
thought Arielle, as the memory of Valdimir Desparde’s 
supposed defection of the preceding spring flashed 
upon her mind. 

Was the comedy of her former broken betrothal with 
‘Valdimir Desparde'to be repeated in the case of her 
cancelled engagement with Brandon Coyle ? 

It was incredible ! impossible ! Fortune was a flirt- 
ing gypsy, but she never dealt in such practical jokes 
as that ! 

> Lady Arielle was perplexed, bewildered, confounded, 
but — she was not grieved. Strangely enough, in all the 
whirl of emotions that troubled her soul, sorrow had no 
share. 

If she had loved Brandon Coyle, she must have been 
deeply distressed by this charge made against him. 
But she had never loved him or pretended to love him. 
She had accepted his suit only to give peace to her 
grandfather’s declining days. 

Now she was puzzled, not only as to what she 
should think of the letter, but how she should act 
upon it. 

It seemed to her an undignified and disloyal course 
for her to take to go to Net Fleming to ask questions 
concerning the conduct and status of her own affianced 
husband, whether she loved him or did not love him ; 
but also it seemed a fearful risk to disregard this sol- 
emn warning. 

Then there was no one whom she could with propri- 
ety consult. It would be dangerous to bring the sub- 
ject before her aged grandfather, for whom all excite- 
ment was forbidden. It would be indelicate to obtrude 


360 


THE SKELETON IN THE CI.OSET. 


the matter upon Lord Beaudevere, or Miss Desparde, 
and insulting to hint it to Brandon Coyle, supposing 
that he were blameless. 

There was no one, therefore, with whom Lady Arielle 
could take counsel. 

Finally, after much reflection, she determined to go to 
the cottage in the lane, and without committing herself 
or compromising Brandon Coyle by an expression of 
opinion, place the letter in the hands of Net Fleming,' 
and say : 

“ This strange epistle purports to come from your 
servant Kit Ken and refers to you. Read it and tell 
me what you think of it.” 

Then, if Net Fleming would declare that she knew 
nothing about it, that it was a falsehood, a forgery, a 
bad jest, as she probably would, why, then Arielle’s 
course would be clear — to throw the letter into the fire 
and forget all about it. 

Yes ; she would put the matter to this inoffensive but 
certain test. 

As soon as she formed this resolution she arose to 
put it into instantaneous execution. 

“ For I cannot have any peace until it is settled,” 
she said. 

Then Lady Arielle gave the order to. her maid 
to instruct Abraham to have the little pony-chaise 
ready. 

It was nearly one by the steeple clock, as Arielle 
passed Miston Old Church, and' very soon afterward 
the little chaise stopped before Net’s vine-clad, moss- 
thatched cottage. 

” Oh, Arielle ! how glad I am to see you, love ! So 
you have reached my nest at last !” exclaimed Net, ris- 
ing and throwing her arms around her visitor. 

“ And a lovely jittle nest it is for your pretty little 


A CATASTKOPHE. 


361 


birdlings,” replied Lady Arielle, warmly responding to 
the warm embrace. 

“ Sit down, love,” said Net, drawing forward a cosy 
cushioned chair. ” Let me take your hat and mantle. 
You will stay to lunch with me and .spend the after- 
noon.” 

‘‘ No, dear,” said the visitor, as she sank into her seat, 
and began to draw off her gloves, ” I forgot to look 
into the library and tell my grandfather that I was 
coming here. I will stay until three o’clock. I must 
go then to get home to dress for dinner. We have a 
small party of family friends to dine with us this even- 
ing,” replied Lady Arielle, settling herself back with a 
look of weariness into her chair. 

Net drew her chair closer to Lady Arielle’s and 
looked up in her face with wistful eyes full of affection- 
ate interest. 

‘‘ Look at this,” said the latter, placing Kit’s letter in 
her hands, ” and tell me what you think of it.” 

“ Good Heaven !” exclaimed Net, after she had 
glanced from the ill-spelled words and crooked lines 
to the strange signature. 

“ Read it all, and then give me your opinion,” said 
Arielle. 

Net, with paling cheeks, read through the strange 
epistle, and then returned it to the young lady, saying : 

“ I am sorry the unhappy girl should have had the 
audacity to write to you, Arielle ; but the truth is, the 
letter speaks for itself, and it speaks to the facts. 
Brandon Coyle eloped with Kit Ken and married her 
on the evening of the day of my step-father’s funeral. 
I have seen her marriage certificate, or something that 
purports to be such. But whether this marriage cere- 
mony was performed by a clergyman, or whether it was 
legally done, or whether the marriage certificate has 


362 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


any real value as a document I do not know. What I 
do positively know is this : that if Brandon Coyle is not 
Kit Ken’s husband, he ought to be.” 

“ Heaven of heavens !” breathed Lady Arielle, cov- 
ering her face with her hands. 

“ Oh, my darling girl !” began Net, drawing nearer 
to her friend. 

“ Do not speak to me yet, please,” murmured Arielle. 

A few minutes elapsed, and then Net spoke again ; 

“ Dear Arielle ! dear, dear Arielle — ” 

“ It is the shame — the humiliation !” murmured 
hoarsely 

“ The daughter of an hundred earls,” ^ 
still covering her face. 

“ Dear Arielle, you never could have loved this evil 
man.” 

“ No, no !” 

“ I was sure you could not. You have been persuaded 
by others to accept him.” 

“ It was to please my grandfather — to give peace and 
cheerfulness to his declining days.” 

“ Yet you must have believed Brandon Coyle to be a 
man of honor.” 

“ Yes, yes ; and I blamed myself for not liking him 
better.” 

‘‘ If you had known him as he really is you never 
would have accepted him, even to please your beloved 
grandfather.” 

“ Oh, never ! never ! Nor would the earl have enter- 
tained his suit for a moment !” 

‘‘Of course not. And now you see, my love, that 
this timely exposure, though it has given you a pang of 
passing mortification, has saved you from life-long mis- 
ery,” said the wise little mammam, as she went to her 


A CATASTROPHE. 


363 


buflfet in the corner opposite the fireplace, and brought 
back a small glass of water with a few drops of spirits 
of ammonia. 

“ I know — I know — thank Heaven ! But oh ! I shall 
have to be very cautious in breaking this to my grand- 
father,” said Lady Arielle, slowly, as she took the 
restorative from Net’s hand and drank it. Then she 
suddenly asked : “ Where is Kit ?” 

“ She is gone since Friday night or Saturday morn- 
ing. No one has seen her, in fact, since Friday night. 
Her parents are in great distress about her.” 

“ Where do you think she has gone ?” inquired Lady 
Arielle, in a very low voice. 

“ I think that Brandon Coyle has coaxed or spirited 
her away and hidden her somewhere. And yet I have 
not dared to hint this to her family lest I should be 
accessory to an act of retributive justice, which the law 
would call murder, and punish with death ; for I tell 
you that her father is a fierce man, who would slay his 
daughter’s destroyer with less compunction than he 
would kill a wild beast. If old Mr. Coyle were at home 
I should go to him, but as he is away, I am forced to 
be inactive — to do nothing, lest I should do much 
harm.” 

The entrance of the new servant, a village girl, 
named Delia Bond, to lay the cloth for lunch, put an 
end to all confidential talk. 

The lunch was a simple little repast of tea, bread 
and butter, cold roast partridge, cakes, and fruits and 
cream. 

The children were called in to share the dainties. 

It was while they sat at the table that Lady Arielle 
inquired of Net : 

“ When did you hear from Antoinette Deloraine ? 
She seems to have passed entirely out of our lives 


364 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET, 


since she left for London. I suppose the gayeties of 
the town absorb her ?” 

Net’s face changed. 

“ Oh, no, no," she answered. “ Antoinette writes 
that she has not been well since she left Miston. She 
inherits her mother’s delicacy of constitution, I fear. 
In her last letter she spoke of going down to Deloraine 
Park, in Devon, where the air is finer." 

“Yet she always looked the very picture of health." 

“ Yes, I know. Her high color gave her that look ; 
but it was hectic, I fear," said Net, with a sigh. 

After this refection was disposed of, Lady Arielle 
arose to put on her mantle and hat for her drive home. 

“ I am compelled to hurry, my dear Net, for it is after 
three o’clock, the time I had set for departure,” she 
said, on taking leave of her hostess and the children. 

The old coachman started his mare at a brisk trot 
and soon left the cottage and the lane behind him. 

Arielle gave herself up to thought. She was shocked 
and revolted by all that she had heard about Brandon 
Coyle, but she was not sorrow-stricken. On the con- 
trary, though she would scarcely have confessed it even 
to herself, she was beginning to experience a feeling of 
great relief in her freedom from bonds that had been 
assumed to please others, but that grew more galling as 
each day passed bringing her nearer to the hour when 
they were to be riveted upon her life forever. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


THE FATAL DINNER PARTY. 

Oh, never 

Shall sun that morrow see ! 

Shakespeare. 

You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting 
With most admired disorder. Ibid. 

Duncan is in his grave ; 

After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well. 

Ibid. 

- Yes, 1 must control myself this evening. Hide this 
base secret in my heart, so that no unseemly scene shall 
mar the enjoyment of our friends. But to-morrow — to- 
morrow I must tell my grandfather the insult we have 
both unconsciously suffered in Brandon Coyle’s visits 
and proposal,” said Arielle to herself. 

She went down into the drawing-room, where she 
found her grandfather entertaining Lord Beaudevere 
and Miss Desparde. 

Brandon Coyle had not yet made his appearance. 

“ I have just been complimenting my old neighbor 
here on his improved looks. I have not seen him look 
so well for years, and 7wit> I must offer my congratula- 
tions to you, my dear, though I must not venture to tell 

[365] ■ 


366 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


you to your face how beautiful you are. Pray, have 
you both been drinking of the elixir of life ? Or what 
have you done to yourselves .’ Or what has anybody 
done to you both ? I declare I never in my life saw 
such an improvement as there is in you two !” said Lord 
Beaudevere, when the usual greetings had been ex- 
changed between the young hostess and her guests. 

Arielle laughed and glanced at her grandfather, to 
see if there really was any change in his fair, silver-gray 
complexion. 

There was, indeed ! The old earl himself had color 
in his face and light in his eyes. 

“ It is the pleasure we feel in seeing you and Vivienne, 
my lord,” said Arielle gracefully. 

“ Oh, a thousand thanks. But if pleasure is such a 
beautifier, why are not Vivi and myself perfectly irre- 
sistible, since we are delighted to be here ?" demanded 
the baron. 

Before Arielle could answer, the door was thrown 
open and — 

“ Mr. Brandon Coyle,” was announced. 

The young man entered the room with his usual air 
of elegant ease. 

There was certainly no improvement in his appear- 
ance. The most reckless flatterer would scarcely have 
dared to say, in face of the facts, that he was looking 
well. 

Brandon Coyle, with all his dark and splendid beauty, 
had ever been pale and sullen. He was worse than that 
now ! He was swarthy, haggard, ghastly ! 

Yet he entered the room with ease, and greeted each 
member of the company -with graceful self-posSessioa 

Arielle had involuntarily shrunk out of sight, behind 
the others ; and when he found her and offered his 
hand with courteous words, she folded hers, dropped 


THE FATAL DINNER PARTY. 


367 


her eyes, and answered never a word. She could do no 
otherwise. She could not look at him ; she could not 
speak to him. Fortunately the other three members of 
the company were bandying jests and repartees between 
themselves, and did not notice what was going on be- 
tween the betrothed pair. 

“ What ’s up now, I wonder ? Oh ! I suppose it is the 
effect of yesterday’s news ! Valdimir free and coming 
back ! But that shall be nothing to you, my lady !” 
said Coyle to himself, commenting upon Arielle’s con- 
duct. 

The announcement of dinner came as a relief. 

“Come, my little lady-love !’’ exclaimed Lord Beau- 
devere, gayly stepping forward and giving his arm to 
Lady Arielle. 

Brandon Coyle took Miss Desparde, and the aged earl 
marched on, majestic and alone. 

It was a merry, chatty party that assembled around 
the dinner table. 

Lord Beaudevere and Vivienne had in themselves 
life and joyousness enough to inspire a host, and their 
host seemed in particularly good spirits. Arielle was 
unnaturally excited. And so with the many courses, 
each one more excellent than the last — for Lord Alto- 
faire’s chef was unrivaled — epigrams, jest and repartee 
flew back and forth between the four friends, who were 
all too talkative to observe that Brandon Coyle seldom 
spoke or smiled. 

The dinner was prolonged, as cheerful, enjoyable 
dinners are apt to be among people of “ elegant leisure.” 

It might have been observed, however, that though 
the earl, with his heightened color and brightened eyes, 
looked in excellent health for a man of his age, and 
talked well and gayly, yet he ate but little — no more, 
indeed, than courtesy to his guests demanded, tasting 


368 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


a dish or two of each course, toying with his fork, and 
sending away his plate almost untouched. 

The long-drawn but lively dinner came to an end at 
last. 

The cloth was drawn, and the dessert was placed upon 
the table. And healths were drank in sparkling Mo- 
selle ; nuts and jokes were cracked together. 

But neither could this last forever. The moment 
came at length when Arielle succeeded in catching the 
laughing eyes of Vivienne, and giving her the signal to 
withdraw. 

Both young ladies arose together. 

Lord Beaudevere anticipated Brandon Coyle’s move- 
ment, and sprang with the alacrity of youth, as well as 
the gallantry of age, to open the door for them. He held 
it open until they passed, then bowed them out, and 
closed it. 

Then he resumed his seat at the table. 

This was the gentleman’s hour, and now came Bran- 
don Coyle’s watched-for opportunity. He felt for that 
minute, thin glass vial, no bigger than a large pin, 
and not half so long. It was safe in his vest pocket ; 
yet his face grew darker, sharper, ghastlier, as he 
touched it. 

“ Now for the molten topaz, the golden glory, the 
liquid sunshine — the sherry of twenty-five,” said Lord 
Beaudevere, rubbing his hands. 

This was a very strong and heavy old sherry, known 
to the butler as — a gentleman’s wine, and never put on 
the table until the ladies had withdrawn. 

Lord Altofaire gave a sign, and the gray-haired but- 
ler set the wine before his master. 

“'Let me fill your glass, my lord,” said Brandon 
Coyle, in a rather unsteady voice, as he took up the 
bottle. 


THE FATAL DINNER PARTY. 


369 


“ No, no ; many thanks, but no,” said the old earl, 
resolutely, laying his long white hand over the mouth 
of his glass. “ Nothing heavier than champagne to- 
night, and not any more of that even.” 

Brandon Coyle’s dark face flushed to his temples. 
He looked utterly confounded and set down the bottle 
with a thump. It appeared to him, for a moment, that 
the old man must have read his thoughts, or discovered 
his design. 

But the next words of the earl explained his reasons 
for not drinking. 

“ I am acting under my physician’s orders. I dare 
not take strong wine to-day. I am not well, really. 
The flush upon which you complimented me as an 
indication of healthy dear Beaudevere, is indeed no such 
sign : quite the contrary ; it is a warning, and, together 
with some other slight symptoms, admonishes me to be 
abstemious in eating and drinking. There ! That is 
enough of such memento mori. Two such old and inti- 
mate friends as yourselves will excuse me, I know, if 1 
pledge you only in fair water.” 

Lord Beaudevere and Mr. Brandon Coyle began at 
once to express their concern at the earl’s indisposition, 
but he laughingly interrupted them with : 

” There ! there ! Let us forget all about it ! Beau- 
devere, go on with that story about the Yankee and the 
Irishman who were making a walking tour of Wales 
together and — you know !” 

” Yes !” said Lord Beaudevere, as he poured out a 
bumper of sherry and drank it. 

Then he told his tale, and the laughter that followed 
it reached the ears of the ladies in the drawing-room 
and made them fear the gentlemen were perhaps hav- 
ing too good a time. 

But Brandon Coyle, notwithstanding his determina- 


370 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


tion, his unscrupulousness and his adroitness, got no 
possible opportunity of administering a sedative to the 
excited and talkative old earl. 

“ Brandon, my dear boy, what is the matter with 
you ? You look as if you had the toothache and were 
trying to bear it with fortitude ! Is it because we are 
keeping you too long from the ladies ? Come ! we will 
join them at once,’' said the earl, gayly, rising and 
moving towards the door, followed by his friends. 

But Lord Altofaire’s step was unsteady, and his face 
was flushed, so that the venerable butler who opened 
the door, thought, with feelings of humiliation, that for 
the first time in his fifty years’ service, he had seen his 
beloved and revered master the worse for wine. 

In the hall outside. Lord Beaudevere, seeing his 
friend’s condition, hastily gave him his arm and assisted 
him to mount the stairs. But the earl was breathing 
heavily, and when they reached the drawing-room. Lord 
Beaudevere had to signal Brandon Coyle, who was walk- 
ing behind them, to come on the other side and help to 
support the old man to a seat. 

Brandon Coyle had been much surprised by what he 
had seen ; but his sharp intelligence took in the whole 
case at once. 

The event that he had hoped to simulate had really 
come ! He need not give the fatal drug now. But was 
he any the less guilty ? Any the less a murderer ? 

He hastened to give his aid to the dying man to place 
him in the nearest, easy-chair. 

The two young ladies, who were at the piano at the 
other end of the room, saw that something was the mat- 
ter, though they did not dream what it was, and they 
hastened to the spot. 

The earl was now leaning back in the deep chair, 
breathing heavily. 


THB FATAL DINNER PARTY. 


371 


At the sight of him Arielle dropped on her knees 
before him, and took his hand and looked up in his face. 

“ Grandfather, dear grandfather !” she said. 

He made no reply by word or sign. He was quite 
unconscious. 

“ Lord Beaudevere, will you send for Dr. Bennet at 
once ? Vivienne, dear, will you fetch the housekeeper 
requested Arielle, who, for one so young, displayed 
great self-command. But then, Arielle was young only 
in years, not in trials. 

Her two friends left the room to do her bidding. 

Brandon Coyle only remained, and he came and bent 
over her, meaning to offer his services ; but before he 
could speak she interrupted him ; 

“ Stand aside, if you please, Mr, Coyle. You intercept 
the air,” she said, in a low, calm voice, that had how- 
ever, a ring of command in its tones that enforced obe- 
dience. 

Vivienne quickly returned with the housekeeper, who 
brought every restorative that her long experience 
suggested, and with his lordship’s valet, who was cer- 
tainly the most agitated individual in the room. 

Lord Beaudevere came in and whispered to Arielle : 

“ I have sent Adams on Arrow to Miston. I hope he 
will return with Bennet before midnight. We cannot 
expect him much earlier. And now, my dear, we should 
get your grandfather up to his own bed,” 

“ Yes,” said Lady Arielle, in the same calm, self- 
governing way, as she arose from her knees and gave 
place to those who were to raise the stricken man to 
convey him to his chamber. 

So between Lord Beaudevere and the valet and the 
aged butler, the dying man was carefully lifted and 
carried upstairs to be put to bed in his own room. 

Arielle and Vivienne soon followed. , 


372 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


Brandon Coyle threw himself into a chair and took 
up a bound volume of John Leach’s Illustrations of 
London Life, and tried to amuse himself with them 
until the return of Lord Beaudevere and the arrival of 
the doctor. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE earl’s will AND THE LADV’s WILL. 

The best laid schemes o’ mice and men 
Gang aft aglee. Robert Burns. 

The Earl of Altofaire never spoke again. The Mis- 
ton doctor was promptly at his bedside, and never left 
him to the last. 

At the earliest available moment in the morning a 
telegram was dispatched to his lordship’s London 
physician, who responded by coming down by the next 
express train, and reaching Castle Montjoie at an early 
hour of the afternoon. 

But the earl was beyond medical aid, and had been 
so from his first attack. 

The Earl of Altofaire sank slowly, yielding up his 
hold upon this life little by little until the evening of 
the third day of his illness, when he peacefully breathed 
his last — so peacefully that none but the Miston doctor, 
who sat by him holding his pulse, knew when he fell 
asleep, to wake only in the presence of his beloved who 
had gone before. 

Then every one expected Arielle to break down 
under a storm of grief. She had borne up so long and 
so well that nothing could have been more natural than 


THE EARl/s WILL AND THE LADy’s WILL. 373 

that she should give way now. The bowstring too long 
and tightly strung must snap at last, they thought. 

But they did not quite know the girl’s strength 
even yet. 

When Dr. Bennet, gently laying down the lifeless 
hand, said : 

“ It is all over,” Vivienne passed swiftly and silently 
to the side of her friend, who was seated at the head of 
the bed. 

But Arielle did not falter. She stooped and pressed 
a long, clinging kiss on the pale, unconscious forehead, 
and then arose and took the arm of Vivienne. Before 
she left the room she turned to the two physicians, and 
said : 

“ Gentlemen, I thank you for your devotion to my 
grandfather. I know if medical skill and devotion 
could have saved him, he would have been saved. 
Good-night.” 

Both the doctors stood up and bowed in silence and 
in admiration at the self-command of this young crea- 
ture. 

The cdurtly London physician stepped softly to the 
door and opened it, and bowed again as she passed out 
on the arm of Miss Desparde. 

Vivienne led her to her chamber, where she lay 
down on the outside of her bed. Vivienne sat down in 
an arm-chair by her side, and essayed some well-meant 
affectionate words of comfort, but Arielle gently 
stopped her. 

“ Dear love, do not speak to me just yet. I cannot 
bear it. Let me lie quietly here and listen to the Lord,” 
she said in a low and reverential tone, as she put out 
her hand to her companion, who took it, and sitting by 
her side, held it in silence. 

Vivienne kissed the hand she held in silence, and sat 


374 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


by her friend, until Arielle, worn out by three nights’ 
watching, sank to sleep. 

Then only Vivienne went below stairs to seek the 
housekeeper and the lady’s maid to consult them about 
their lady. 

The London physician left the house to catch the 
evening express train going south. Dr. Bennet accom- 
panied his “ learned brother ” as far as Miston. 

Lord Beaudevere and Brandon Coyle still remained 
at the castle tb take charge of affairs, and Miss Des- 
parde stayed on in attendance upon Lady Arielle. 

That evening two telegrams went from the Miston 
office, dispatched by Dr. Bennet — one was to the 
Messrs, Frodsham, London, solicitors to the late earl, 
and the other was to the Rev. Peter Lucas, Oratory, 
Norwood. 

In response to these telegrams there were two arrivals 
at Castle Montjoie the next morning. The first was 
Mr. Frederick Frodsham, of the legal firm referred to, 
and the second was Father Peter Lucas, from the 
religious house where he had been making a retreat 
for the last few days. 

These two gentlemen took entire charge of the 
necessary arrangements, though they consulted Lord 
Beaudevere, as the guardian, and also Mr. Brandon 
Coyle, as the betrothed husband of the heiress. 

All were in favor of deferring the funeral until the 
eighth day, having the remains of the earl lie in state 
in the castle hall, meanwhile, to receive the farewell 
visits of friends, relatives, tenants, and dependants, as 
had been the custom of the Montjoie family on the 
decease of its head from time immemorial. 

But Mr. Brandon Coyle objected to all this upon the 
ostensible and plausible grounds of health and reason, 
and the will of the betrothed husband of the heiress. 


THE earl’s will AND THE LADy’s WILL. 375 

and the future lord of the castle, was law to everybody 
else. 

Brandon Coyle, therefore, settled the time of funeral 
the fourth day after the death, and, in the short in- 
terim, the body of the earl lay in state in the castle hall, 
to be viewed by all who wished to pay this last tribute 
of respect and affection to their late friend, landlord, or 
master. 

Mr. and Miss Coyle came down from London to 
attend the last rites. 

Many other friends arrived in the neighborhood 
from different sections of the country. 

The obsequies were celebrated with great magnifi- 
cence on that fourth day. 

A Roman Catholic archbishop officiated. 

After the solemn ceremonies in the beautiful little 
chapel attached to the castle, the three coffins of rose- 
wood, lead and walnut were sealed and deposited in the 
vault under the altar, and the large concourse of 
funeral guests in their mourning coaches dispersed. 

There remained in the castle only the following per- 
sons — Lady Arielle Montjoie, now Countess of Alto- 
faire in her own right, and her betrothed husband, Mr. 
Brandon Coyle ; Lord Beaudevere and Miss Desparde ; 
Mr. Coyle of Caveland, and Miss Coyle ; Mrs. Adrian 
Fleming, Dr. Bennet, and Mr. Frederick Frodsham, 
the family solicitor. 

This last-named gentleman invited the whole party 
into the dinning-hall to listen to the reading of the will. 

Lord Beaudevere, with Arielle, deeply vailed and 
leaning on his arm, led the way, Brandon Coyle with 
Miss Desparde followed, old Mr. Coyle with Net Flem- 
ing came next after them ; and Dr, Bennet brought 
up the rear with Aspirita. 

When the company were all seated in the rather 


376 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


sombre room, the solicitor advanced to the head of the 
table and broke the seals of a parchment document 
that he held in his hand. 

The reading of the document took but little time, and 
ended by appointing John Eric Beaue, Baron Beau- 
devere, of Cloudland, sole guardian of the heiress until 
her marriage or majority, and sole executor of the will. 

At the close of the reading the lawyer bowed, 
refolded and handed it to the baron, who left the side 
of Lady Arielle to come and receive it. 

“ And here, my lord, is a letter addressed to you, but 
left in my care, with the direction to hand it to your 
lordship immediately after the reading of the will.” 

Lord Beaudevere took the letter and glanced at the 
superscription, which, in addition to the address, bore 
these words : 

“ To be read to the assembled household and friends immedi- 
ately after the reading of my will.” 

Lord Beaudevere then explained to the company the 
light duty he had to perform in claiming their attention 
to the letter he held in his hand. . 

As the baron said this, Brandon Coyle, could any one 
have seen his dark and sinister face, in the obscurity of 
the corner where he sat, might have been observed to 
chuckle, as with an anticipated triumph. 

He knew the purport of that letter. He himself had 
been the suggester of it on one ocasion when the late 
earl had mentioned the possibility of his sudden death 
before the marriage of his granddaughter, and expressed 
his wish that in such an event she should be married 
immediately after the funeral, so that she might not be 
a day without the protection of her husband. Then 
Brandon Coyle had artfully suggested that the lady and 
her friends might object to such an arrangement, unless 


THE EARL'S WILL AND THE LADy’s WILL. 377 

they could have her grandfather’s written instructions 
to that effect, which of course would be obeyed as a 
command. The earl had thanked the young man for 
the suggestion, had praised his foresight, and had 
immediately written the letter. Moreover, to make 
assurance doubly sure, he had sent to London for a 
special marriage license, and had inclosed it in the 
letter, and dispatched both to his solicitor to be placed 
with his will. 

Now the letter and the marriage license were both in 
the hands of Lady Arielle’s guardian, and were about 
to be submitted to the company. Father Peter Lucas 
was also in the room, perfectly cognizant of the con- 
tents of that letter, which had been read to him by the 
late earl, and patiently waiting to perform the marriage 
ceremony, according to the promise then given. 

No wonder Brandon Coyle felt jubilant in the antici- 
pation that he would be quietly but indissolubly united 
to the young countess within the space of half an hour. 

He did not know that Net Fleming was in the room ; 
he did not even know that she had come to the funeral ; 
nor did he suspect that his closest secrets had come to 
the knowledge of his betrothed bride. 

He felt sure of the young countess, and of all the 
wealth, power and position her high alliance would give 
him. 

But Lord Beaudevere was reading the letter, which 
was rather stiff and formal : 

“ To My Household and Others Interested. — In- 
asmuch as my young granddaughter, Arielle Montjoie, 
has no other near relative or protector but myself, as 
life at all times, and especially at my age, is very pre- 
carious, and as she is already betrothed to Mr. Bran- 
don Coyle with my full approbation, and only waiting 


378 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


for the expiration of our year of mourning, for the lata 
countess, therefore I command that in the event of my 
own sudden death the nuptial ceremony between Lady 
Arielle Montjoie and Mr. Brandon Coyle be performed 
immediately after my funeral and the reading of my 
will, and before the family solicitors and clergymen shall 
have left the house, so that my granddaughter may not 
be a day without the protection of her husband. 

“ I write this so that the young betrothed couple, 
who understand my wishes in this respect, may be also 
understood in their turn as not acting with unfilial 
haste, but as obeying my explicit and imperative com- 
mand in their marriage at this juncture. 

“ In proof of my deep earnestness in this affair, I have 
instructed our domestic chaplain, the Rev. Peter Lucas, 
as to the duty that will be required of him, and have 
also procured a special marriage license for the occa- 
sion, which I now inclose, with my blessing on the 
betrothed pair. 

“ (Signed,) Altofaire. 

“ (Witnessed) Peter Lucas, S. J. 

“ Lucy Lacy.” 

The reading of the letter was ended. 

The respectful silence in which it had been heard 
lasted for some moments longer. The company seemed 
to be waiting for some word or action on the part of 
those most interested. 

Lord Beaudevere looked around, and then said : 

” You have all heard the wishes, or, rather, the com- 
mands of the late earl, expressed in this letter. We 
who have parts to take in this duty are all here.. The 
bridegroom and the bride are here, the solicitor who 
has drawn up the marriage contract, the clergyman 
who is to perform the ceremony, the guardian who is to 


THE earl’s will AND THE LADy’s WILL. 379 

give away the lady, and the nearest friends of both 
families, who are to witness the rites. It is seldom, 
indeed, that funeral obsequies and a marriage ceremony 
are performed the same day in the same house, but the 
circumstances more than justify the measure — they 
make it imperative upon us. There need be no further 
delay. Mr. Lucas, shall we proceed to the chapel ?” 

The old priest arose and bowed. 

Brandon Coyle with a smile upon his evil face, also 
arose and went to the spot where Arielle, deeply vailed, 
.sat between Dr. Bennet and Net Fleming, and offered 
his arm, saying : 

“ Come, my love, our friends await us.” 

“Stand back, Mr. Brandon Coyle, if you please,” said 
the young lady, in a low, authoritive tone, as she arose 
and waved him off. 

He retreated a pace or two and looked at her in sur- 
prise, saying to himself : 

“ She has been putting on airs ever since the day of 
the old earl’s illness, and she keeps it up to the last. 
But ray turn will come next! It will be a congenial 
task to reduce my lady to submission. I believe in 
the * cane no thicker than a man’s forefinger,’ as a good 
old-fashioned institution !” 

Utterly disregarding his looks or his thoughts, Arielle 
turned to the old family physician and said : 

, “'Doctor Bennet, will you give me your arm across 
the room ? I have something to say to my guardian 
and to this company.” 

“ My dear, you tremble ! You are not well ! Is any- 
thing the matter ?” inquired the doctor, with solicitude, 
as he drew the little black-gloved hand under his arm 
and looked down on the closely-vailed face. 

“Yes, .something is the matter— you shall hear,” she 
answered, as they moved towards the end of the table 


380 


THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 


at which Lord Beaudevere, Mr. Frodsham and Father 
Lucas stood. 

Brandon Coyle, upon whose listening ear fragments of 
this short conference had fallen, followed them at a short 
distance behind, and with some mental disturbance. 

“What in the deuce ails the girl ? It is impossible 
‘ihe can have heard anything ! She has been acting so 
strangely for the last few days ! Perhaps I have piqued 
her in some way ! Perhaps she means to ask for a 
delay in the marriage ! She shall not have any delay, 
that is positive ! She must obey her grandfather’s 
commands. It is her duty,” he said to himself, as he 
paused near the foot of the long table. 

In the meantime Dr. Bennet had led Lady Arielle to 
the head, where her guardian, her solicitor, and her 
chaplain stood. 

The other members of the small company, Mr. and 
Miss Coyle, Net Fleming, Miss Desparde, and the upper 
servants of the castle looked on with interest, no one 
but Net Fleming suspecting what was to come next, 
but believing it was to be the signing of some contracts 
on the table, and then a wedding procession to the 
chapel. 

Lady Arielle took her place at the head of the table, 
with Lord Beaudevere and Father Lucas on her right 
hand, and Dr. Bennet and Mr. Frodsham on her left. 

She threw aside her thick black crape vail and 
revealed a face beautiful in its aroused spirit. The 
delicate cheeks were glowing, and the sapphire eyes 
were sparkling under the halo of her rippling golden 
hair. 

“ By Jove, how handsome she is !” muttered Brandon 
Coyle to himself, as he watched her from his standpoint. 
“ I don’t believe I could thrash her into obedience after 
marriage if she should keep on looking like that ! What 


THE earl’s will AND THE LADY’s WILL 


381 


slaves we are to beauty, after all. Yet I like a woman 
I can whip ! It is a passion with me, inherited from my 
distinguished male ancestors, I presume ! Now, then ! 
what is the little vixen about to say ?” he asked himself, 
as he moved nearer and gazed at her. 

She was trembling indeed, as the doctor had remarked 
— not, however, from fear or weakness ; but from strong 
moral indignation too powerful for her delicate frame. 

Yet she controlled her voice and spoke in a low, firm, 
steady tone, as she looked around and said : 

“ My friends, I have a very disagreeable, though 
necessary explanation to make, which I have had no 
opportunity of offering sooner, but which must not be 
delayed longer. My dear grandfather, the late earl, 
lived and died under a cruel misapprehension of the 
truth in regard to the supposed relations between Mr, 
Brandon Coyle and myself. It is my duty to correct a 
false impression. I am not, P never was, and I never 
can be the betrothed of Mr. Brandon Coyle, and there- 
fore there can be no marriage ceremony, now or ever, 
between that person and myself !” 


THE END. 


y 


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